Windows of Redemption
by ladygris
Summary: Nathan's defeat at the hands of Christopher Chance sent him into hiding. Now, having integrated into American life, he's faced with the same dilemma: an order to kill an innocent woman.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Human Target, including the character of Nathan. All original characters and plotlines, however, are my fault. You can blame me.

**Author's Note:** I typically write for Stargate: Atlantis, so Human Target is a little different. However, I am a massive Kavan Smith fan, which probably explains why I thoroughly enjoyed the HT episode "Victoria." This story is very much a tag to that episode and focuses on Kavan Smith's character, Nathan. Naturally, this story contains spoilers for "Victoria," and our favorite characters such as Christopher Chance, Guerrero, and Winston will come into the story much later. Special thanks to **theicemenace** for beta-ing and providing invaluable insight into certain setting details. Also to **Ani-maniac494** for helping me plot the twists and turns. As always, hope you enjoy! ~lg

~oOo~

There were no personal photographs in the fourth-floor Dallas apartment, but plenty of personal touches remained. Two brown leather wingback chairs sat in front of a cold gas fireplace. Tall orange-red vases with designer-looking flower arrangements framed the large print of Sir Frederic Leighton's _Solitude_ over the mantle. A waist-high table stood next to the fireplace, holding a tray with a crystal decanter and matching glasses. The lightning flashed through large windows and glittered off of the crystal and the Scotch it contained. A mahogany table sandwiched between the two chairs held a Tiffany lamp with a long pull chain. A thick book rested next to the lamp, and someone often propped his feet on the matching brown leather ottoman.

Behind the chairs and seeming somewhat out of place, a brown leather couch with touches of brass along the front of the arms hugged the wall under the window. The Dallas rain pattered against the windows, the clouds almost so close as to be touched. Long Venetian blinds swayed slightly in the breeze from the air conditioner as it cycled on. The plain kitchen held an upscale coffee pot and toaster oven. Wine glasses hung from under the cabinets, sparkling in the lightning and the nightlight the owner kept in the kitchen. A cup and saucer waited next to the sink to be washed, and a box of PG Tips was nestled into a spare corner along with a teapot. The matching tea kettle waited on the back of the stove, its bottom singed black with use.

Down an entry hall, a tall table held another designer flower arrangement and a tray with a few loose pieces of mail. The front door rattled as the owner let himself in. He shook rain water from his short dark hair as he hung his dripping trench coat on the mahogany coat rack next to the door. Stooping to remove his sodden shoes, he moved to the table and dropped more mail, his keys, and some loose change in the tray. A weary face and resigned blue eyes reflected from the mirror above the hall table as he reached below his black suit coat and pulled out his Glock. He ejected the clip and slid it into the drawer strategically hidden below the hall table.

In the kitchen, Nathan J. Gleeson eyed the Scotch and wavered for just a moment. Just one sip, one drink would ease the tension of the day. Then, he reached for the tea kettle, ran some water, and set it to heat. Packing some of the PG Tips into a mesh tea ball, he let the tea kettle heat while he went to the bedroom. The last thing he needed today, of all days, was a drink. Not only would it dull his mind, but it would start a cycle he wasn't keen on repeating.

In the bedroom, as carefully and elegantly appointed as the remainder of the apartment, Nathan sat on the bench at the foot of the queen-sized bed and pulled his socks from his feet. Carefully placing them in the hamper, he tugged his jacket off of his shoulders and hung it over a hanger to be dry cleaned. Today's job was as mundane as every other day until someone pulled the fire alarm at work. Then, it had turned into a madhouse as he tried to organize a safe and orderly exit from Rockwood, the engineering research firm where he served as daytime head of security.

"Quite a fall, my friend," he muttered to himself as he yanked off his tie and headed for the shower. The hot water felt good, but he didn't linger. The scar from his hip surgery had faded with time, but the ache from the healing bones, not to mention his busted tailbone and ankle, never truly went away. Especially not in this weather.

By the time he left the shower, the tea kettle had started screaming at him. He wrapped a towel around his waist and moved back into the kitchen to pour the boiling water over the PG Tips and into the tea pot. Letting the tea steep, he returned to the bedroom and pulled on a pair of gray sweat pants and a t-shirt. How had he come to this point? Oh, right. By trusting Templeton.

Nathan's mind flashed back to that day, two years ago, when his life changed forever. Up until then, he'd been a loyal British citizen, merely doing his job. And that job included working with the royal fixer to prevent a scandal to the Crown. Unfortunately for him, a man loyal to the Crown had stopped him. And, by this time, Nathan truly held no grudge against his former queen. He understood that the woman would protect her daughter. No, he held a grudge against Templeton and against the man who left him to die.

Christopher Chance. Even now, the name rankled him and left him ready to hit something. Chance had appeared in the suite, and Nathan immediately knew something was wrong. Her Highness, Princess of Wales, rarely had unannounced visitors, but Gerard had vouched for this man. And he'd come in unarmed. Nathan watched him climb the stairs that led to the princess's private rooms with narrowed eyes. Christopher Chance moved like a man aware of danger at all times. And he'd set Nathan's teeth on edge. What followed was the most disgraceful day of his life as Chance and the princess eluded Nathan's attempts to set up an assassination. His original orders had been to help the Crown avoid scandal by keeping the princess from leaving with her New York City lover. The prince had not liked the idea that his heir apparent wife had fallen in love. Nathan hadn't liked it, either. The princess had a duty to her people, and she'd violated that duty.

Christopher Chance finally got Her Highness to the museum the queen was visiting and revealed the plot. In the process, Victoria's fencing lessons, something she abhorred, came in handy as she managed to beat Nathan at his own game. Just when he thought he had a chance, Chance cut the ropes holding a lift in place, protecting the princess and nearly killing Nathan. He'd managed to cover his head and thus sustained little more than a severe concussion. His back and hip, however, were different stories.

Knowing that his tea was ready, Nathan pushed himself back to his feet and poured a cup of the pungent brew. He liked coffee as equally as he liked tea, a testament to his time in America. But, at times like this, nothing would suffice like a good strong English tea. Adding one cube of sugar to his cup, he stirred until the sugar had marginally sweetened the tea and made it palatable to drink. Settling back into his chair, he picked up the book, a copy of Charles Dickens's _Great Expectations_. Nathan identified with Pip, the beneficiary who went from rags to riches at the behest of an unknown benefactor. Tonight, with the rain pounding on the window and his own failures, he decided to disappear into a world that reminded him of everything he'd lost.

The pounding of a bass, the only sound to get through the thick walls, reached his ears from the other side of his bedroom. Nathan smiled. She must have had a tough day to have the music so loud. He liked his neighbors well enough. An elder, well-to-do widow consistently invited Nathan to dine with her family, intrigued by the slight British accent he'd never been able to fully eliminate from his speech. And, on the other side of his apartment, a beautiful woman about his age came and went at the same times he did, dressed in smart business suits and sensible heels. He often wondered who she was, though he'd done nothing more than smile in greeting in the year he'd lived here. It had taken him two years to reach the point where he thought he might like to know another person, and this American woman intrigued him. He knew she went running every morning, a result of seeing her in the apartment complex's fitness center, and decided that tomorrow, the day after the anniversary of his life's change, he would do something to get to know the solitary woman.

Somewhat at peace, Nathan marked his place in his book and took himself off to bed. The music continued for ten more minutes, but he didn't mind. He'd almost introduced himself to the woman several times, but he'd always been warned away by her glare at the end of a long day. Up until now, Nathan had never really wanted to connect with another person. Sometime in the last month, however, that had changed. In the morning, he'd make his presence known. It was long past time for him to get on with his life and leave his failures behind.

~oOo~

US Marshal Erin Mitchell angrily clicked off the CD player and threw the remote into the couch. She'd regret that later when she had to find the stupid thing, but she couldn't stop the force behind the toss. What had he been thinking? Shaking her head, she barely avoided stomping from the kitchen, where she'd gulped down a glass of wine, into her bedroom. She hadn't made the bed that morning, and her work-out clothes were scattered. Again. Tomorrow was her first day to volunteer at the nearest COPE house, and she'd resolved to teach those women more than just exercises to help them stay in shape. She wanted to teach them confidence and control. She rolled her eyes. Like she had any of that in her life.

After changing into a dorm shirt, Erin moved back to the living room and forced herself to breathe. To not cry. She'd never lost a coworker before, and it stung. Her couch, tucked under the big windows that admitted a stunning view of the thunderstorm, looked as worn-out as she felt. She'd held her emotions together while at the office, not allowing them to escape. But, here, in her home, she felt safe. Safe enough, anyway. Part of her felt sorry for her neighbors, though she'd been unable to avoid the loud music for a time. The neighbor on her left would complain to her, and she'd promise to try to remember to keep it down. The neighbor on her right, however, wouldn't say a word. He'd smile at her with those amazing blue eyes and go about his business, never realizing that she'd seen the gun he kept tucked under his suit jacket. When he first moved in, Erin had been tempted to do a background check on him, but he'd since let slip that he worked as a security guard.

Her thoughts rolled back around to the day, and she felt her control slipping. Flopping onto the couch, she ignored the shoes in the middle of the floor, the dishes waiting to be done, and the haphazardly decorated room. Instead, she cuddled a pillow to her chest and let her tears flow.

Antonio Brusuelas had been more than a coworker. He was a friend. At one point, his fascination with her naturally blond hair led them to date a few times, and they stayed close over the course of their careers. Erin counted him as one of her best friends, though others in the office only saw the professional facade they donned after their brief relationship ended. No one knew how deep of a blow this had been.

As a US Marshal, Erin accepted that she might have to lay her life on the line. She'd made provision for it by setting up a savings account and making arrangements should her father ever have to endure her death. But she hated seeing her friends' lives snuffed out by a vindictive bullet. Antonio hadn't even been in Dallas today. She'd received the news from her supervisor, a man who knew of her friendship with him. Antonio had been in St. Louis, protecting a federal judge with a threat on his life. In the end, he died a hero, diving in front of the bullet so the judge could put the criminal behind bars for the remainder of his life. None of that mattered now, when Erin realized that she couldn't pick up the phone and hear Antonio's softly-accented voice telling her it would be okay_._

The tears kept coming, and Erin soon sobbed into the pillow. She never screamed, but she let out the grief that had dogged her steps that day. The crushing weight in her chest held her in the couch, and she hiccuped when the initial storm passed. Too tired to move, she pulled her feet onto the couch and closed her eyes, willing away the memories for another day.

Around midnight, a particularly loud clap of thunder roused her, and she dragged herself into her unmade bed. With the blankets pulled up to her ears, she sent a prayer of thanks upward that she didn't have to work tomorrow. In the morning, she could run until her lungs gave out and then disappear into her shower for an hour if necessary. And she could ignore anything related to the job for another day. It sounded like heaven to Erin.

~TBC


	2. Chapter 2

By the next morning, Nathan realized that he couldn't just approach his neighbor out of the blue. He'd spent too much time around one particular lady to know that women didn't respond well to strange men accosting them. He scowled at his bed as he made it, his perfectionist ways habit after all these years. He'd been groomed to be in the background, ever present but never seen. Still, in his own home, he liked to have the elegance he'd known for most of his career.

With the bed made, Nathan moved to the window and opened the vertical blinds. The bright morning sunlight sparkled off of wet streets and brightened the entire room. The walls were painted taupe, with bright white crown molding. Nathan had chosen wooden blinds for his home as a way to close out unwanted sunlight and darken the place when needed. He often left them open, however, and enjoyed the feel of the morning sun on his face. _Simple pleasures, my friend,_ he thought. Moving around the cherry-wood sleigh bed, he opened his closet and pulled out his uniform for the day. Black suit, black tie, white shirt, and shoes polished to perfection. A long stool with claw-and-ball feet and a slate-blue brocade sat at the foot of his bed, the upholstery matching the bedspread he'd chosen. When he left Templeton and England, he took his own tidy sum of money, a little something he'd saved. It was enough to furnish this apartment to his tastes. Living and working in the home of the Princess of Wales had shaped his tastes to the elegant and somewhat extravagant. He'd discovered that Americans also liked elegance, but the prices were completely different here. He'd spent a majority of his savings on the lease and furnishings of this condo.

Dressed for the day, Nathan carried his suit jacket to the kitchen and draped it over the back of one of his dining table chairs. That table, tall with another understated flower arrangement, fit perfectly with the rest of his living room. As he waited for water to heat, he opened the equally dark blinds, savoring the awakening of his life. He fixed a bowl of oatmeal, poured his tea, and grabbed his laptop from the writing desk shoved into a corner. Calling up the website of the _Dallas Morning News_, he ate breakfast as he read the local and international happenings.

Still somewhat pensive after his decision to move on in life, Nathan shrugged into his shoulder holster and donned his suit coat. Moving to the hall table, he again loaded his Glock and slipped it into the holster with practiced ease. The weight of the weapon under his arm was familiar, almost welcome. He looked around, satisfied that the few dishes from breakfast could wait until after he'd come home that night. He'd hidden various weapons around the apartment, a result of being a wanted man in England. But here, in America, he'd blended quite nicely. Even managed to tone down his accent so that he passed for just another guy on the street. That was all he wanted, he told himself as he left his home.

Just as he reached the lift, the door to the stairwell opened, and his neighbor appeared. She wore gray shorts and a pink tank top that showed off her body to perfection. She'd draped a towel around her neck, and her long hair had been pulled into a high ponytail. Strands of the hair still stuck to her head from sweat, and she looked completely worn out. For a moment, Nathan allowed himself to admire the vision in front of him, his male mind enjoying the thought of watching this woman work out. Then, he looked closer. Under the distant smile she offered him, her eyes were dark. Shadows showed a restless night, and she seemed almost fragile.

"Mornin'." She nodded as he passed her.

Nathan smiled slightly. "Good morning." Then, he stopped and turned as she passed him, struck by the slump in her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

The woman turned, her surprise widening her eyes. Nathan blinked as he realized they were so blue as to almost be violet. She stared at him for a moment before chuckling awkwardly. "Yes." Her brows lowered. "Why?"

"I'm sorry." Nathan nearly bit his own tongue in half. He shouldn't have asked, but he couldn't let her pass without knowing if she needed something. "I shouldn't have intruded."

"No!" She settled, her smile tipping up lips devoid of anything save lip balm. "No, it's okay. I just. . .wasn't expecting it."

Nathan accepted that with a nod. "Then, if you will forgive the intrusion, I'll let you be about your day." Before she could stall him further, he turned and escaped into the lift.

What had he been thinking? He straightened his suit and tie, not giving any indication of the turmoil under the surface of his placid mask. Once on the ground floor, he walked to his car and drove to work, all the while shaking his head. He hadn't meant to intrude, and he'd been groomed to never ask questions not related to the royal family's safety. Yet he'd forsaken those ingrained teachings to reach out to his neighbor.

Putting his thoughts aside, Nathan arrived at work and reported in, the requisite earwig as familiar as his sidearm. For the remainder of his day, he watched employees come and go, scientists work, and the occasional messenger leave packages for various individuals. He almost managed to put the startling sight of those violet eyes out of his mind. Almost. He was again reminded of them, however, when someone delivered a decorative birthday plant in the form of the Texas bluebonnets.

~oOo~

Erin stared at her neighbor as he ducked into the elevator. She lived next door to an Englishman? In all the time she'd been here, she'd never heard him speak.

As the elevator doors closed behind him, Erin turned toward her condo and slowly let herself inside. The same disaster area that she'd left greeted her with its too-bright, too-frenetic reminder that she didn't truly live here. Needing a shower, she set the coffee maker to brewing and grabbed clothes out of the nearly empty laundry basket. Today, she needed to clean this apartment.

Her mind returned to her neighbor as she stood under the hot water and washed away the sweat of her run. She'd seen him many times, and she'd been intrigued by those amazing eyes. But simple attraction did not a friend make. _Okay, you've watched WAY too much Star Wars if you're thinking like Yoda,_ she thought wryly. Still, he'd smiled ever so slightly when he left her, and her heart had flip-flopped over the hint of dimples. Paired with the military haircut and the suit, she could easily see him working for a security firm.

What was his name? Erin shook her head as she climbed from the shower. She'd lived here for two years and still didn't know his name. Or anyone's name, for that matter. Her life revolved around her office and job, which explained why she knew every US Marshal in the southern half of Texas but couldn't tell anyone the name of her closest neighbor. Deciding that she'd have to remedy that, she grabbed a mismatched coffee mug with a chip in the handle and filled it with the rich drink. Adding just a hint of sugar, she carried it to the table and sat down to wolf down a bowl of cereal. Her eyes roamed the room as she ate.

She really needed to take care of herself. Oh, she stayed in shape and looked great physically, but she hated coming home. This place wasn't relaxing. She didn't look forward to coming here at the end of the day.

Frustrated with her thoughts, Erin dumped her empty bowl into the sink and left the dishes to be done later. In her bedroom, she pulled the sheets from her bed and put them in the washing machine that came with the apartment. Then, she began organizing her dresser top. This sudden burst of energy was usual, but the urge to clean wasn't. Maybe it had something to do with her neighbor. She didn't want him to see what a mess she really was.

Taking a moment to truly think about the encounter that morning, Erin let out a deep breath. "Wow. You really are lonely if a complete stranger can see through you and manage to make such a big impression."

Her reflection in the mirror didn't reply. Shaking her head, Erin left her bedroom behind and began picking up the cluttered living room. Maybe, by the end of the day, she'd have decided what she wanted to do with her life.

~oOo~

As if by design, Nathan's neighbor stepped out of her apartment that evening just as he arrived home from work. He'd thought about stopping by the gym but decided to use the complex's fitness area rather than spending more time around strangers. He shook his head as his neighbor turned, thinking it odd that a man who once made a living by being a nearly-constant companion no longer wanted to see people.

Save one. His neighbor turned and smiled at him, looking a bit more rested than she had that morning. Tonight, she wore her hair in a high ponytail, but the front strands had been firmly secured. She wore gray and purple sweatpants and a matching jacket, a purple top peeking out. The color complimented her eyes and brought life to her face. Nathan pasted a friendly smile on his face while hoping to just get past her. He truly did not want to intrude on her life any more than he already had.

She had other ideas. Drawing even with him, she reached out a hand and stopped just short of touching his arm. "Excuse me?"

Turning with a patient smile on his face, he met those amazing eyes. "Yes?"

She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "I just wanted to say thank you for this morning. I had a rough day yesterday, and having someone else care enough to ask really meant a lot." She rolled her eyes and shifted on her feet. "And I know how awkward that sounded. But it's true. So, thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I'm Erin." She stuck out her hand. "Erin Mitchell."

He shook the preferred hand. "Nathan Gleeson."

"Well, I'll let you get on with your evening." Erin chuckled again and jabbed a thumb over her shoulder toward the lift. "I just have a class to teach. . . . Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Nathan grinned, thoroughly enjoying her fresh appearance and noncommittal introduction. "And if you need anything, feel free to ask."

"I will." She gave him another smile. "Thanks."

Just like that, she was gone. Nathan stared as she disappeared into the lift, wondering who had been more awkward. Erin Mitchell was a beautiful woman who had no need to be so awkward. So what did life throw her way?

Shaking his head, he let himself into his home and tried to figure out what intrigued him about his neighbor.

~oOo~

"Excuse me?" The timid voice pulled Erin from her thoughts. She turned as a petite, dark-haired woman smiled nervously. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course." Erin smiled, making sure to stand with her hands at her sides. "Why don't we sit down?"

The woman nodded and followed Erin to the closest seat, letting out a deep sigh of relief as she sank into the cushion. "Wow. That workout of yours is going to really leave me in pain tomorrow."

"Yeah, but a good kind." Erin let her eyes rove over the woman, noting the baggy clothes and slightly pudgy center. "I'm Erin."

"Rosalee." The woman smiled again. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem."

Rosalee looked a little nervous, so Erin let her sit for just a moment. When nothing was forthcoming, she asked, "How long have you been in Dallas?"

"Oh, for just a couple of years." Rosalee shrugged. "We moved here from Phoenix."

"Mmm." Erin nodded as she drank from her water bottle. "Phoenix is really nice."

"You've been there?"

"Yeah, with work." Erin pushed away the memories. She'd met Antonio in Phoenix, his home town. "As a matter of fact, a good friend of mine is from there."

"It's pretty." Rosalee sounded wistful. "We came here for a job. Joe. . . ." Her voice trailed off, and Erin didn't push her. She'd already spoken to the director of this particular house and knew that Rosalee's situation was worse than most. Her job as a Marshal made people open up to her when they otherwise wouldn't. Still, she refused to bring up a painful topic when Rosalee was obviously healing.

Glancing at the clock and realizing that she needed to get going, Erin touched the other woman's shoulder. "Hey, would you like to go get coffee sometime?" As Rosalee's eyes widened, she smiled. "I know a great place that's full of books, and they serve tea if you prefer that."

"It's not like Starbucks, is it?" Rosalee looked doubtful. "Joe loves Starbucks, but their coffee is too strong for me."

"Yeah, it kinda is." Erin frowned and then brightened. "I have a neighbor who's British. I can ask him for a good tea house in town if you'd like."

Rosalee gave her a noncommittal nod that Erin took as a yes. She smiled one more time. "Thank you for coming."

"I'll be back day after tomorrow." Erin stood and draped her bag over her shoulder, taking the time to look Rosalee in the eye. "I'm so happy to meet you."

Rosalee nodded one more time before heading for the shower. Erin watched her go, her smile fading as she considered the woman. Rosalee clearly needed a friend, and Erin doubted her own ability to be a friend. She worked too much, couldn't keep her apartment clean to save her life, and had trouble talking to anyone who wasn't a witness, a suspect, or a coworker. _Except Nathan_, she reminded herself. Shaking her head at her thoughts, she left the COPE house thinking about her promise to Rosalee. She really did need to talk to Nathan, to find a great tea house so she could take Rosalee out sometime. With that in mind, she drove home.

At her apartment, Erin dropped her gym bag just inside her door and glanced around. The place looked so much better after a thorough cleaning, but it still wasn't inviting. Too many white walls, lots of bland furniture, and very little décor kept her from relaxing like she wanted. Still, it had been a good day.

She'd met her hunky neighbor, who had succeeded in taking her mind off of Antonio for a while. Erin slipped out of the light jacket she'd worn that evening and shook her head. She was a grown woman, in her thirties. She should really get a grip on herself. The last thing she needed was a rebound relationship. She and Antonio had gone separate ways years ago, but she had loved him deeply. Not in a romantic sense, but in a familial sense. She could not put any friendship with Nathan in danger simply because she wanted companionship after a loss. If that were the case, she'd call Rosalee.

Smiling, Erin thought over the last couple hours. Rosalee was new to the COPE house and tried desperately to hide the bruises her husband gave her. Joe thought Rosalee his personal punching bag but took the abuse even deeper. He constantly stayed down on her no matter how good she did. Chloe, the COPE director, spoke of walking into the house one day to find Rosalee on her hands and knees, scrubbing the tile floors after Joe threatened to whip her for one little spot. The woman, afraid of her own shadow, needed feminine companionship.

Tired from an active day, Erin showered and changed into night clothes, sinking into her bed as she let out a deep sigh. It had been a productive day. Tonight, without the rain, she hoped she would rest and feel somewhat recovered for work tomorrow. Hopefully, she'd be able to handle knowing when Antonio's service would be. And, secretly, she hoped to see Nathan sometime in the day. His eyes and slight smile, not to mention his British accent, appealed on so many levels.

Rolling her eyes, Erin turned off the bedside lamp and drifted to sleep.

~TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Erin was nearly late for work the next morning, the result of hitting the Snooze button on her cell phone a few too many times. After spending her one day off cleaning, she'd been completely worn out. Of course, the up and down emotions of the last two days couldn't have helped her energy levels. She rushed through the door at work on Wednesday morning with literally thirty seconds to spare. Jerald, another Marshal in the office, playfully tapped his watch while giving her a longsuffering grin. He knew her penchant for being at least fifteen minutes early had been drilled into her from a very young age.

In the morning briefing, Erin sat next to Jerald, as usual, and tried to focus. She'd slept well the night before. . .when she slept. Thoughts about Rosalee, Nathan, and Antonio kept interrupting her rest. With Antonio's killer now in custody, the time between his death and his memorial service would be relatively short. Like five days. Erin started when she realized that his services would be held on Saturday at two in the afternoon.

Feeling the emotions trying to overwhelm her, she tamped them down and stubbornly lifted her chin, meeting the sympathetic eyes of her supervisor. Everyone in this office knew she'd been close to Antonio, even though they no longer dated. And Erin was getting tired of the constant sympathy. Anxious to escape it, she bolted out of her chair when the briefing ended. Her phone rang in that instant, giving her a great reason to ignore everyone.

"Mitchell," she bit out as she dropped a stack of files on her desk.

"Hey, Nutmeg." Her father's happy greeting brought a smile to her face. "I didn't catch ya at a bad time, did I?"

"No." Erin dropped into her chair, only too glad to chat with her father while looking busy. "I just got out of a meeting."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I can call back later." He sounded disappointed.

"No!" Erin lowered her voice with a silent apology to those she'd startled by nearly yelling. "No, it's okay. I'm at my desk, and I can work and chat at the same time."

"Okay, I'll make it quick, then." He let out a deep breath, concerning Erin with his hesitation.

"Dad?"

"I'm here. I'm just. . . ." He seemed to gather himself. "I'm in town, and I'd like to have dinner with you."

Erin sat up straight. "You're in Dallas?" Her mind started whirling, namely with the knowledge that she hadn't prepped for company at all. "When? For how long?"

"Nutmeg, relax." Her father chuckled after using the pet name she'd earned when she was four. "I'm staying with a friend, and I wanted to surprise you."

"You know I don't like surprises, Dad."

"I know, but I'm hoping you'll forgive this one."

"Why?"

"Because there's someone I want you to meet."

Erin narrowed her eyes as she realized the tone in her father's voice. "Dad? Did you meet someone?"

"Yes."

_Great_, she thought. _Just what I need. A mid-life crisis stepmom._ Out loud, she said, "Really?"

Her father laughed again. "Now don't sound so enthusiastic. I think you'll like her."

"Okay. What's her name?"

"Nutmeg, I was a cop for how long?" Her father sounded as if he'd just shaken his head. "I still have friends in the police department who vet all your dates."

_The ones you know about._ Not surprisingly, Erin's mind jumped to Nathan, and she suppressed a silly grin. That man fascinated her although she knew nothing about him save his name. And that he was British. For now, however, she focused on her father's request. "Well, I don't know that tonight will work."

"Oh, no, it won't." Her father flipped through pages, probably his ever-present calendar. "How about tomorrow?"

"I can't." Erin rubbed her forehead. "I teach a fitness class, and that's tomorrow."

"Friday?"

She checked her schedule. "That should work."

"I'll see you then." Her father hung up a few minutes later, leaving Erin oddly restless. She normally found the office with its hustle and semblance of order relaxing. Not today, not with her father's news.

She might have a stepmom before much longer. Erin wasn't sure how she felt about that. She knew the possibility that her father could one day re-marry after her mother's death existed, but she'd never really thought about it. Now, she needed to. She needed to figure out what her feelings were so that she could greet this woman with her head screwed on straight.

"Now, if it's some blond bimbette, I'm gonna kill him," she muttered as she grabbed a stack of files and headed to the shredder. Watching the pages go through the sharp blades, she sighed. Even if it was a blond bimbette, her father's happiness meant more to her than almost anything. She'd do what she could to make this little arrangement work out. That determined, she returned to her desk and worked the rest of the day.

~oOo~

Nathan spotted Erin as he left the apartment's fitness center. After not seeing her that morning, he decided to work out in the hopes that she'd reappear. He admitted a certain fascination to the woman, but he refused to think too deeply about it. Men in his position normally didn't land women like Erin Mitchell. He wasn't royalty, nor was he nobility or wealthy. Just a normal guy, using his talents to make a living. Granted, his living involved carrying at least two loaded firearms at all times, but most women got bored with that right away.

Now, however, he saw Erin headed for the elevator, dressed in another of her sleek business suits, this one a tawny brown. As she stepped into the lift, he called out. "Hold the lift!"

Erin whirled on her heel, her smooth hair flaring slightly. The concern on her face faded into a smile when she saw him. "Nathan."

"Thank you." He returned the smile, regretting that he looked as if he'd just come out of a boxing match. Standing a few steps away from her, he hoped she didn't mind the elevator smelling like a men's locker room.

She eyed him up and down. "Good workout?"

"The best." He took a chance and grinned. "Working late?"

She sighed, and he caught the irritation. "Yes." Her voice growled, and his grin widened.

"Then I apologize for bringing it up."

"Don't worry about it." She waved a hand as the lift arrived on their floor. Walking down the hall, she turned to him suddenly. "While I'm thinking about it, I do have a question."

"Shoot." Back in England, he would never have used such slang. Here, however, it just seemed to fit.

"I have a friend who comes from a. . .really bad situation." Erin stopped at her door and fumbled with her keys. "I would like to take her out for tea, since she doesn't drink coffee, but I don't know any good places. Do you?"

Nathan nodded. "I know a great tea house." He pulled his key from the pocket of his sweats. "It's also a book exchange. I have a card I can get for you."

"Great." She motioned over her shoulder. "Just knock."

He watched as she let herself into her home, catching just a glimpse of bare walls and windows. _She lives in such sparse surroundings? _He frowned. Was it because she was unhappy or just didn't have time to truly settle into her home?

In his own apartment, Nathan washed his face and grabbed his wallet. Finding the card he'd mentioned to Erin, he carried it next door, deciding as he did so to take a risk. When she answered his knock, she'd shed her three-inch heels and now stood barefoot before him in her sleeveless blouse. Seeing the business card in his hand, she smiled. "Thank you so much."

"Never a problem." He took a deep breath and hoped that she didn't slam the door in his face. "Would you care to join me for dinner?"

Erin blinked, caught completely off guard. "Uh. . . ." Her hand stilled as she opened her wallet to stow the card inside. A glint of silver caught his eye, but he refused to look away from her amazing eyes. "I'd love to, but. . . ."

"It's quite alright." Nathan began to backpeddle, breaking eye contact in time to catch the point of a star as she shoved her wallet back into her purse. A badge? "If you'd rather not, I understand."

"No!" She nearly hollered, surprising him with her insistence. "It's not like that at all. I just. . . . Well, I teach a fitness class at a COPE house tomorrow evening, and I'm meeting my father the night after that. And a good friend died rather suddenly, and his funeral is the day after dinner with my father."

Nathan narrowed his eyes, his senses picking up on the somber tone of her voice. "I see."

"Please tell me I didn't ruin my chances." She grinned as a flush colored her cheeks. "I'd love to have dinner with you, but I just can't get away this week."

"You have not _ruined_ your chances." He tamped down the pleasure her concern stirred in him. "Perhaps one day next week."

"Except for Tuesday and Thursday, I'm free all week."

"Great. I'll check my schedule and see what I can do." He turned to go and stopped as a thought occurred to him. "And, if you need anything at all this week, please knock."

"I will." She leaned against the doorjamb. "Thank you, Nathan."

"You are most welcome." He returned to his apartment, allowing her to return to her evening. He closed his door and let out a deep sigh. He hadn't asked a girl out in years. Right now, he was surprised that it made him feel like a child all over again. Or, at least, a teenager.

As the air conditioner cycled on, Nathan caught a whiff of his own odor and headed for the shower. Erin's relieved smile stayed in his mind all evening, and he went to bed already planning exactly how he'd charm Erin Mitchell into accepting a second dinner invitation.

~oOo~

Erin closed the door behind Nathan, hating herself for the way the conversation ended. She'd not meant to bring up Antonio or her personal situation to anyone, much less her charming neighbor. And, yet, it slipped out. Something about that man made it easy to talk to him, and she hoped she'd be able to keep her mouth shut when they did go to dinner.

Images of fine dining floated through Erin's mind, and she shook her head. Just his British accent caused her expectations to rise. He sounded so refined when he talked, but he might actually prefer a more casual atmosphere. After all, she'd never seen the inside of his apartment. It had happened with Antonio, and she had no reason to think that Nathan would be any different.

Thinking of Antonio caused her smile to fade. They'd gone to an Oriental place that totally surprised Erin. With his roots in Phoenix, she'd expected him to take her somewhere Mexican, and her reaction led to another date. And another. And a night at his place. They spent a month together before admitting that they made great friends and lousy lovers. Their time together wasn't horrible, just not what it should have been. After going their separate ways romantically, however, they'd discovered something deeper than the short romance they shared. They became the best of friends.

Remembering her time with Antonio left Erin in a pensive, sad mood as she ran a tub full of water and poured in a lightly scented bubble bath. She had loved him in a distant, friendly way. But Nathan's invitation brought all those memories to mind, and she allowed herself to cry as the bubble bath covered her shoulders. She missed her friend.

~TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I know there are several tea houses named Atticus, but the one mentioned in this story is based off of a tea house in my local area, one that I dearly loved to visit. They had the most wonderful teas, not to mention a fantastic book exchange. No infringement is intended by mentioning the name. As always, hope you enjoy!

~oOo~

The next day, Erin took an extra thirty minutes for lunch and visited Atticus, the tea house that Nathan recommended. As soon as she walked through the door, she smiled. Two women chatted in another room, leaving this one filled with small tables, comfortable chairs, and artwork. A third room led straight back and to the stacks, tempting Erin in spite of her aversion to reading. In the second room, more books lined the walls, circling around the tea bar. Erin let her eyes rove over everything, noting the wall dedicated to tea pots, tea cups, and teas of all varieties, including loose leaf. She shook her head. This place screamed Nathan's name.

"Can I help you?" The tall lady behind the counter drew Erin's attention, primarily because of her British accent.

Erin smiled. "I'm not sure what I want yet. A friend recommended this place, and I have to say I'm not a tea drinker."

The proprietress smiled and pointed to a bunch of small tin canisters hung on a wall. "Those are the different teas we serve. You can use that, or I can make a recommendation based on what you like."

"Um. . . ." Erin shook her head. "I'll check these out. Thank you." She began scanning the titles while thinking about Rosalee. She'd meant what she said when she offered to take Rosalee out for coffee or tea. This looked like a great place to sit and chat, and Erin resolved to figure out something to take to Nathan as a thank you.

Shaking her head, she ordered a cup of blueberry-vanilla tea to go and headed back to work. What would a proper British gentleman like Nathan think if she showed up with a gift? It was probably better to get to know him first.

After work, Erin rushed home, changed into her work-out gear, and packed her bag. She'd been caught in a late afternoon meeting that went through dinner, leaving her somewhat behind. Begging out of the meeting, which included more information on Antonio's funeral arrangements, she hurried to make it to the COPE house in time.

The women had gathered by the time Erin rushed through the door. She let out a deep breath and smiled. "Sorry. Work was crazy today."

Most of the women gave her a smile of varying degrees, but a few of them just stared at her. Erin knew those to be the ones from the worst situations. Ignoring the lackluster response, she set down her gym bag and called the class to order.

An hour later, she released the women and let them head to the showers. Turning around, she smiled to see that Rosalee had lingered yet again. Erin settled onto the floor next to her bag, tired enough that she didn't want to walk to the chairs. "Hey."

"Hi." Rosalee sat gingerly on the floor. "How are you?"

"Better." Erin shrugged. "I got caught in a late meeting today, and it took a little doing to get out of there on time."

Rosalee rolled her eyes. "I know what those are like. Joe has them all the time."

Erin nodded once, fairly sure that Joe didn't have afternoon meetings so much as afternoon rendezvous. But she refused to spoil the woman's fantasy. "So, how are you today?"

"Good." Rosalee smiled. "I didn't feel the greatest this morning, but I'm better now."

"That's great." Erin shoved her towel into her gym bag. "Hey, remember how I mentioned that one of my neighbors is British?" When Rosalee nodded, she continued, "Well, he recommended a tea house that is just fantastic. I went today, and I think you'll really like this place."

"Tea?"

"Yeah, but it's _way_ different from what you think of. Not like Starbucks or anything." Erin grinned. "I was there when they served someone else who could stay for a while, and they made tea in a tea pot, with sugar cubes and a little pot of cream and everything. It was really a neat experience."

"But you couldn't stay?"

"I was on lunch. But I had this tea that is unbelievable." Erin paused long enough to take a sip of water. "It's loose leaf, blueberry-vanilla." She narrowed her eyes a bit. "I wonder if they sell it. If they do, I could get myself off all the coffee I drink."

Rosalee chuckled ever so slightly. "So your neighbor goes there often?"

"Yes." Erin thought of Nathan's invitation to dinner and shook her head, surprised that a simple conversation could stir something she hadn't felt since before Antonio. "It looks just like the kind of place he'd love."

"You like him."

Erin eyed Rosalee. "Yeah, I kinda do." She nudged her friend's knee. "So what do you say? You let me take you to the tea house this weekend, and I'll tell you all about Nathan."

Rosalee seemed to consider the offer. "Okay," she finally agreed. "What time?"

"Sunday? Say around ten?" She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed her gym bag. "That'll give us time to browse the books as well."

Rosalee's eyes lit at the mention of books, and Erin left with a pleased smile. Her plan to get Rosalee out for a while seemed to have worked. Now, if she could get through dinner with her father. . . .

~oOo~

The following evening, Erin dressed for dinner in a black business suit with a no-nonsense white blouse. She thought about wearing color, but she didn't want to fuss with makeup and the like. It seemed better to go to this dinner looking nice but feeling as comfortable as possible. Over the course of the afternoon, she'd built this image in her mind of a blond woman younger than herself, very well-endowed, and loving everything her father said or did. Every movie she'd seen ended up that way, not to mention the TV shows. This woman likely thought her father old enough to keel over at any moment, leaving her with a very large bank account.

Erin smirked as she drove to the nice restaurant her father had chosen for the dinner. While he had a large bank account, he wasn't loaded. Not in the traditional sense of the word. He'd split the life insurance payout from her mother's death with Erin, leaving both of them comfortably situated, even with inflation and the economic depression. Erin made enough at her job and with the few investments she'd made to live comfortably and still have extra left over.

At the restaurant, Erin allowed the valet to park her car while she walked inside. The maître d' smiled at her, and she spoke softly. "I'm with the Mitchell party."

"Of course." He said in a fake accent that landed somewhere between British and French. His snooty manner nearly made her laugh. With a black suit and superior smile, he clearly thought himself the toast of town, as her mother used to say. Thinking of Nathan's natural accent and mannerisms, Erin found the maître d' rather amusing. He led her into the restaurant and through tables holding couples or individuals. Finally, Erin spotted her father.

Vernon Mitchell rose when he saw her, a smile gracing his face and deepening the lines around his eyes. Retirement had been good to him, and he stayed fit by playing golf and running. Tonight, he wore a navy suit with a lighter blue shirt and the tie she'd given him for Christmas. "Nutmeg!"

Erin accepted her father's hug. "If you call me that in front of _her_, I'll find a way to pay you back," she growled with a smile. She normally didn't mind others knowing her nickname, but it was typically revealed at a time of _her_ choosing.

"Too late, sweetheart." Vernon's blue eyes sparkled at her. "I already told her."

"Dad!" Erin pasted a smile on her face and turned to the woman at the table. Instead of the blond bombshell she'd expected, she saw an older woman, her father's contemporary, wearing an elegant gold blouse and pencil skirt that ended at her knees. Her dark hair, liberally streaked with gray, reminded Erin of Elizabeth Taylor, and she wore minimal makeup, letting her sparkling brown eyes and bright smile do the talking.

Vernon turned to her. "Erin, I want you to meet Elizabeth Walters."

Erin blinked, first at her name and the comparison to Elizabeth Taylor. Then, the woman's last name caught up to her. "Walters? As in. . . .?"

"Yes, the federal judge." Elizabeth stood and straightened. "Erin, it's an honor to meet you."

"Uh. . . ." Erin shook her head and blinked slightly. "Likewise." She shook the woman's hand, both relieved and concerned. "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting. . . ."

"Me?" Elizabeth smiled and waved an elegant, pink-tipped hand toward a chair. "I understand. From what your father tells me, he took quite a chance with surprising you."

Erin slid into the chair and ordered a glass of red wine. She wouldn't drink all of it, merely sip at it. Then, she planned to go home and have a second glass. As Elizabeth and Vernon settled at the table—next to one another—Erin let out a deep sigh. "So, Dad, I would ask how life is treating you, but I can already see." Then, she realized how rude that sounded. "I mean. . . ."

Vernon touched her hand. "Nutmeg, relax. Please. Elizabeth isn't going to eat you alive simply because of your career. She already knows what you do and is quite pleased. With you being in Dallas and her work in New York, there's no chance of a conflict of interest."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"That's a relief." She frowned and then turned to Elizabeth. "I'm sorry. It's been a rough week, and I am a little snappy."

Elizabeth's smile turned sympathetic. "News travels in our circles, Erin. You knew Marshal Brusuelas, didn't you?"

"Yes." Erin blew out a sharp breath. Their waiter chose that moment to return, and she ordered chicken fettuccine without looking at the menu. Once the waiter left, she turned to her father. "Dad, Antonio was killed earlier this week. His service is tomorrow."

Vernon glanced sharply at Elizabeth. "The shooting in St. Louis? That was Antonio?"

"Yeah."

Elizabeth frowned. "I'm missing something."

Vernon smiled at her. "Erin and Antonio dated a few years ago. They stayed very close afterward."

Elizabeth nodded and changed the subject. As the evening progressed, Erin worked herself into a better mood and actually came to like Elizabeth. By the time she went home, she'd managed to say more than a few civilized words to the woman. As she let herself into her apartment, she thought about the evening. Things could have gone better, but they also could have gone worse. A lot worse. Vernon and Elizabeth would be in town for another week, allowing Erin to meet with them in a more comfortable setting, where her job and Elizabeth's career wouldn't intrude. But she read between the lines. Her father had already asked Elizabeth to marry him, and she'd said yes. Erin dropped onto her couch, glaring at nothing in particular. If her life wasn't complicated enough, she was about to inherit a federal judge as a step mother. Her eyes slid to the wall her apartment shared with Nathan. Just what would he think of that?

Thinking of her British neighbor made her think of Rosalee. She seriously needed someone to talk to, and Erin knew that she'd appreciate little happenings from her life. Even if they were mundane rides in the elevator with a gorgeous man. Thinking about Nathan made Erin want to spend more time with him, and she forced herself to prepare for bed. As she slipped into sleep, she wondered how Nathan had fared that day.

~oOo~

Nathan handed the security at Rockwood Engineering over to the night shift and wearily walked out to his car. The supervisor of swing shift, that period between five in the evening and eleven at night, had come down with a severe case of food poisoning, so Nathan agreed to fill his shoes for the night. He hadn't worked a double shift in years, and his ankle ached. Not to mention his hip and back.

Ignoring the pain, he parked and noticed Erin's car was already there, albeit somewhat crooked in the space. He shook his head at himself. When had he noticed her to the point he knew what she drove? Taking the elevator up to the fourth floor, Nathan hesitated just outside of Erin's apartment door.

He liked her. More than he should. This fascination with her violet eyes and somewhat forward ways had gone from simple attraction to something much deeper. He suddenly wanted to reach out to her, to see those eyes sparkle. He wanted to learn if they could be more than friends.

After entering his home, Nathan loosened his tie and poured a couple fingers of Scotch before settling into his wingback chair. He stared at the print above his fireplace, wondering what he'd been thinking when he bought it. _Solitude_ was a painting for a woman, not a man. Specifically, not a man like him. He needed to find something to replace it. Maybe tomorrow, he'd visit a local gallery and find something a little more suited to his tastes. The extra shift left him with the day off, and he liked the idea of relaxing.

His thoughts found their way back to Erin and his situation. Did he even deserve to get to know her? The small hint of a badge he'd seen bugged him, but he refused to investigate it further without proof. Erin didn't look like law enforcement, but he knew looks could be deceiving. His old life meant he investigated anything that could be a threat. He didn't want to treat Erin with that level of suspicion. Not if he wanted to actually _date_ her.

Pushing to his feet, Nathan moved to the window and sipped his drink. He ignored the ache in his ankle, another reminder of Victoria's quick thinking. Just the memory of the princess's determined attack made him shake his head. He had spent his life around headstrong, powerful women. Even his mother had been the type to take charge. Now, he found himself drawn to one such woman.

Tired of his thoughts, he finished his Scotch and took himself to bed, gratefully sinking into the memory foam mattress. He shifted around to get comfortable, prying his mind away from the woman next door. If he didn't get a handle on his emotions, she would distract him to the point of frustration. If she hadn't done so already.

~TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Erin barely made it through the funeral while holding on to her composure. As a good friend to Antonio, she sat near the front, wearing her normal business suit and displaying her badge with a black band across it. One of the Marshals' own had died, and they showed respect to him, even if he'd died in another state. At the front of the church, a stainless steel cube held Antonio's last remains and would be returned to his home state of Arizona. His ashes would be scattered over the Grand Canyon in accordance with his wishes.

Erin forced herself to focus during the eulogy, delivered by Antonio's brother. She ignored the sympathetic touches of her coworkers as she stood for the closing prayer. But Antonio's mother nearly broke through her defenses. Antonio was the youngest of four siblings and the first to die. His mother had to be physically led away, and her cries resonated with everyone there. "My baby! My baby's back there!"

Fighting her tears, Erin walked to her car and drove away without saying a word. She couldn't lose it now. Not when she was driving in Dallas traffic. She drew in a shaky breath, angrily swiped at a stubborn tear that escaped, and made it to the apartment. All the way to the elevator and up to her floor, she stood stubbornly, her jaw clenched and glare warning off any well-meaning soul. Right now, she didn't want sympathy. She wanted to change history.

When the door of her apartment came into view, her control shattered. She rushed forward, keys trembling in her hands as she tried to get out of a public place. She vaguely heard the ding of the elevator as her key mercifully slid into the door, and she escaped inside without a sound. Once the door closed, however, she slid into a sobbing heap on the floor.

~oOo~

Nathan returned home the following afternoon without art but totally relaxed. He'd spent the better part of the day browsing several local art dealers, looking for the perfect piece to hang above his fireplace. While he'd not succeeded, he'd managed to have several interesting conversations with women charmed by his accent. Now, he frowned as he rode the lift to the fourth floor. He knew these American women were drawn by an exotic accent, but he could definitely do without the constant flirting and fluttered eyelashes and not-so-subtle requests for his number. Especially since the one woman he really liked normally didn't flirt.

Leaving the elevator, Nathan's frown changed to concern. Erin stood in front of her apartment door, frantically sorting keys as she wiped at tears that wouldn't stop. He hesitated, remembering that she'd had a funeral to attend today. Would she even want to see him?

Before he could answer that question, she managed to unlock her door and slip inside. Nathan watched, torn between following her and giving her space. He finally settled, remembering those difficult days after he'd left the hospital. He continued to his apartment, pausing ever so briefly just outside her door.

Inside his apartment, he walked to the kitchen and began unloading the reusable canvas bags he'd picked up that day. In addition to shopping for art, he'd visited Atticus, gone grocery shopping, and spent the day out and about. He had one more day to fill before he returned to work, and he planned to enjoy a fire, cup of tea or something a little stronger, and one of the new books he picked up at Atticus. For now, however, he stored his groceries and walked over to the window.

He'd never been one to stand at a window and look out until he moved to Dallas. Nothing about the view outside his apartment really intrigued him. But it was a view into a world in which he didn't belong. Nathan had been trained to be an outsider, an observer, one who foresaw dangers but did little more than protect against them. Friendship was never encouraged in the palace, so he relied on his training and skills to get him through each day. For a long time, it had been enough.

But no longer. Turning from the window, he walked to the secretary desk he kept in a corner of the large main room of his apartment. Opening the cover, he booted up his laptop and hit play on his favorite playlist. The classical strains of Beethoven filled the room but couldn't drown out the thumping bass from the next apartment. So Erin had decided to bury herself.

Rather than turning up his own music, Nathan chose to ignore the intrusion into his peace. Erin had intruded into a great many things in the previous week. He shook his head. Had he only known her for five days? Every day, it felt as if she had managed to make herself known a little more, leaving him off balance and unsure.

"Pull yourself together, my friend." He walked across the room and eyed the Scotch. Deciding against drinking this early in the afternoon, he settled into his chair and barely picked up his newest book when a knock sounded at the door.

~oOo~

Once the initial storm passed, Erin pulled herself to her feet. Kicking off her modest heels and not caring where they landed, she stumbled to the couch. She flopped down, pulled a pillow to her chest, and continued to cry.

How long had it been since she'd good and lost it? Too long, apparently, because the tears wouldn't stop no matter how hard she tried. Every time she thought she gained control over her emotions, she remembered Antonio's mother. She'd never met the woman, but her complicated and wonderful relationship with Antonio made her care for his mom. She couldn't imagine what the woman was going through, not with what she was experiencing so fresh in her life.

When the tears finally stopped, Erin stayed on the couch to sort through her emotions. She'd cried the day Antonio had died, furious at herself for breaking their last-minute plans over a late meeting at work. He'd sounded disappointed knowing he'd be out of town, but he'd coped. It was the nature of the job, and they both knew it. He'd promised to call her when he got back to Dallas. That was the last time she spoke with him.

Erin pushed to her feet and wandered into the bathroom after turning on some loud rock music. She felt disconnected and distant, her entire focus on something she could never have: a second chance. She'd shared everything with Antonio. The good days, the mismatched relationships, the flings that broke her heart. In a really weird way, they'd become confidantes even though they hadn't stayed lovers. Who would she call now, when the job got to be too much? Who would hold her when she lost a witness? Who would talk her through her intense desire to do bodily harm to a suspect? Who would be her friend?

Pressing a cold, wet washcloth to her eyes, Erin settled onto her bed. Even with her eyes closed, she sensed the distance in the room. A plain bed frame with a mattress and boxsprings did not make a bedroom meant for relaxing. She really should spend more time on herself, but she'd been so caught up in work that she couldn't think beyond getting a few hours of sleep. This was one good thing Antonio's death had brought to her. A time to reflect and decide what was important.

Suddenly, she didn't want to be alone anymore. Erin sat up, the washrag falling to her lap in her haste. The cold cloth had dulled the headache and kept the puffiness from getting too bad. Makeup could hide the rest. She decided that she didn't need to feel this loneliness and refused to feel it any longer.

At her closet, she pushed aside the business suits she typically wore and pulled out a black leather jacket she'd bought a year ago. At that time, she'd been dating another federal agent, this one from the FBI, who had a thing for bad girls. She'd enjoyed her time with him, but he'd inevitably found someone younger and more exciting. Never mind the fact that Erin wore her sidearm whenever they went out or stayed in. Antonio had coached her through that break-up as well.

Well, he wasn't here now, to stop her. She smiled at her reflection, already knowing just how to make the transformation. She yanked a white tank top from her drawer, one that cut low enough to hint and was just short enough to show a peek at her midriff. Her dark jeans, the ones that hugged her hips and behind a little too tightly, were next. After shimmying into those, she found the high heeled boots she hadn't worn in way too long. The five-inch heels would give her the desired height and help her feel just that much tougher. Her makeup went quick, as did the blow-dry she gave her hair to straighten the locks. When she finished, she looked like the bad girl she hoped everyone would think her to be.

Grabbing money, ID, keys, and an ankle-holster that fit nicely under her jeans, she left her apartment. As she locked the door, she grinned. She knew the right place to go, and she'd fit in there. The men in the bar would definitely buy her a drink, and one in particular, a local cop, had been looking for a reason to take her home. Enough drinks and enough time with this other guy, and she should be able to forget about Antonio's death for a while.

Soft classical music, something most people would not have heard, caught Erin's attention. She frowned. The only person on this floor that she could even imagine listening to classical was Nathan. Somehow, it fit the image she had of him in her head.

What would he think of her now? She glanced down the front, seeing the raw sex appeal she'd desperately dressed to have. _You know, he did ask you out,_ said a little voice in her head.

Erin shook a few strands of hair from her face and sauntered over to the door. If he told her to get lost, she'd head downtown. Until then, talking with her intriguing neighbor, who might take her in for the evening, appealed more than a bar full of cops. Decision made, she lifted her hand and knocked.

~oOo~

Nathan opened the door, already knowing it was Erin. And he knew her mood based on the bit of shirt he'd seen through his peep hole. Or, rather, the lack of shirt. Now, he barely avoided blinking at her stubborn face and heavy makeup. His eyes raked down the front of her, taking in the radically low-cut top, hint of skin at her waist, tight jeans, and sky-high heels. The leather bomber she wore only added to the image. He wouldn't put it past her to be carrying a firearm and a pair of handcuffs somewhere on her person. Quite frankly, he hadn't been more shocked at a woman's attire save for the time Victoria appeared in her nearly scandalous get-up at that museum.

Dragging his mind away from the typical male reaction to such an outfit, he met her eyes with a raised eyebrow. "Yes?"

She lifted her chin stubbornly. "You said I could knock if I needed anything."

"I did," he agreed. Stepping back, he allowed her to sashay inside, catching the faint hint of her musky perfume. His eyes narrowed. Erin wasn't this person on a regular basis, so she must be reacting to the funeral. In fact, after a quick survey of his home, she turned to face him somewhat expectantly. Closing the door behind her and making up his mind that he would act appropriately, he met her eyes. "Tea?"

~oOo~

Erin spotted the small bar as soon as she entered the room. Looking around, she took in the impression of the place, landing somewhere between utterly stunned and ready to blow off some steam. Somehow, the décor fit her mental image of Nathan, and yet it still surprised her at how well he'd decorated the place. When he offered her tea, however, she blinked. Jabbing a thumb over her shoulder, she smiled seductively. "How 'bout some of that?"

"I think not." His tone was gentle while still being firm. Heading to the kitchen, he eyed her again. "I don't think you need any form of alcohol right now."

Spoiling for a good fight as much as she wouldn't mind a good time, she took a step toward him. "You don't think?"

He straightened, not at all upset at her rudeness. "With all due respect, you're in my home, dressed like a harlot, and not acting yourself. I refuse to add to that by serving you alcohol."

_Dressed like a harlot._ All the fight went out of Erin at those words, and her shoulders slumped. "You're right. I'm sorry." She looked around again, this time feeling rather out of place. "I shouldn't have intruded."

"I told you to come over if you needed anything, and you did." This time, Nathan's lips turned upward, revealing his very charming dimples. "I'm happy to listen."

Rather than stare at him, Erin allowed him to putter around his kitchen while taking in her impression of the place. This man put her to shame. She'd lived in her apartment for two years, and all she had to show for it was a set of mismatched furniture, white walls, and clutter from her random trips through. She really needed to rethink that.

Dark wood vertical blinds still let in the fading evening sunlight. Two wingback chairs framed an end table, and a computer played classical music from small speakers. A large Persian rug with a tiled pattern drew all attention to the fireplace, the one thing that his apartment had over hers. The print above the fireplace drew her attention, and she walked toward it, utterly captivated.

A young woman, probably a servant based on the way her head was wrapped, sat in what appeared to be a red rock canyon, her gold and cream gown flowing around her. Bare feet peeked out, and her face had such a pensive look that Erin couldn't help but relate. She turned to where Nathan had pulled a tray out of the cabinet. "This is beautiful."

He glanced over. "Thank you. I almost replaced it today."

"With what?" She glanced around. "It fits your apartment perfectly."

"Yes, but I'm not normally that. . .sentimental." He shook his head. "I didn't find anything I liked, so the print stays there." As he added two tea cups and saucers to the tray, he pointed. "It's a print of Frederick Leighton's _Solitude_, by the way."

Erin turned back to the painting, absorbing her impressions of it. In a really odd way, she felt like someone understood what she'd been going through and had painted it specifically for her. Rolling her eyes as she turned around, she watched Nathan carry a tray with tea steeping in an actual teapot to the little table holding a Tiffany lamp. "You know, I'm not as refined as all of this."

He gave her a genuine smile at that, bringing out those dimples again. "Normally, neither am I. But I don't have guests often."

Walking over to perch on the edge of one of the wingback chairs, she gave him a rueful smile. "I'm happy to oblige, then. Though I do apologize for my tactless entrance."

His eyes narrowed for the second time that night, giving her the impression that he read right through her bravado. "I understand. And I'm glad you came here rather than going somewhere else."

Erin let out a sigh, deciding to be completely honest. "I almost didn't. But I guess I knew what I needed more than what I _thought_ I needed." She shook her head. "If I wasn't here, I'd be somewhere getting completely sloshed right now."

He nodded. "Alcohol isn't the answer."

"No, but it's a great way to forget." She braced her elbows on her knees. "Sometimes, in my line of work, you just want to erase the memories and start over. Especially after days like today."

He didn't say anything, merely began to pour the tea into the small cups. But his eyes held more than sympathy. He truly understood. Or so she thought. And that loosened her tongue. "I knew Antonio for years. And, five days ago, I found out that I won't see him again. He was always there. Always. I didn't have to wonder about if I could pick up the phone and interrupt something. Even after we broke things off, we stayed friends. And, now, he's not there."

Nathan handed her a cup of tea, complete with two cubes of sugar and a touch of cream.

Erin accepted it and wrapped her hands around its warmth. "I don't know what to do, now. I mean, we talked every two or three days. He lived here in Dallas, so that wasn't hard to do. And, two days before he left, he asked me to dinner. Again, not unusual. This time, I cancelled out because I had a meeting to get to. Just work stuff, nothing that couldn't have been handled the next day. He understood and, because of the job, postponed our dinner to after his trip. And never came home." Her voice cracked, so she took a sip of her drink. "This is really good!"

"Thank you," Nathan said dryly.

"I guess I'm still having a hard time really dealing with the fact that he's gone." She shook her head, taking another sip of the rich tea. "I know the dangers of the job. I even have my own will, power of attorney, and funeral plans laid out so my dad doesn't have to worry about it. But I just. . .never, in a _million_ years, expected Antonio to never be there. I should have, but I didn't.

"And, on top of this, my dad is getting married again." She slouched back into the seat and propped her feet on the ottoman between the chairs. The contrast between her ultra-modern boots and the traditional look of the brown leather struck her. She continued talking. "He hasn't said as much, but I can read between the lines. He's in love with this woman, and he wants to marry her. To make matters worse," she said as she took another sip, "she's a federal judge. I thought she was gonna be this ditzy blond bombshell type, and she turns out to be very stable and have a fantastic career." Then, she realized what had happened. The entire time that she'd spoken, he had listened without even commenting. Now, she blinked. "Why am I even telling you all of this?"

Nathan smiled again, this time lowering his cup to the saucer he held. "I understand. And I'm willing to listen."

Erin let out a deep breath. "Well, I'm sorry for the information download, anyway. It's not my normal MO." She straightened and dropped her feet to the floor, suddenly very awkward. "I should probably go."

"Only if you'd like." He leaned forward and met her eyes. "I know what it's like to be alone and need company. I promise you can do me bodily harm if I overstep my bounds."

She eyed him warily. It wasn't that she thought Nathan would do anything. But he seemed so willing to let her rant for hours on end even after she all but invaded his home for the sole purpose of getting drunk out of her mind. "Um. . . ."

"More tea?" He held up the tea pot.

"Okay." She let him refill her cup and added the same amount of sugar and cream. "Speaking of tea, I went over to Atticus. And I'm taking my friend tomorrow. I think she'll really like it."

"I'm glad."

The spent the rest of the evening in light conversation about artwork. Granted, the evening passed quickly when, after an hour, Erin's cell phone rang. She sent the call to voicemail but rose to leave anyway. She faced Nathan. "Thank you. For stopping me from doing something I'd regret."

"No problem." He walked her to the door. "One more thing before you go."

"Yes."

Without speaking, he pulled her into a warm, almost brotherly, hug. Though her boots made her taller than him, Erin laid her head on his shoulder and nearly started crying again. _This_ was what she needed. A friend who listened. And someone who hugged her when things got tough. Smiling in spite of the tears in her eyes, she took her leave and settled into her apartment for the night. Every time the tears pressed too close to the surface, she remembered Nathan's dimples and willingness to listen to her ranting. And she smiled.

~TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** For those of you reading this, I apologize for the late posting. I usually like to post much earlier in the day, but my day consisted of back-to-back events as I get ready for Easter tomorrow. Either way, here's the new chapter. Enjoy! ~lg

~oOo~

By the next morning, anger and emotion had faded into embarrassment. Erin stayed tense from the moment she awoke until she walked through the front of Atticus about midmorning. She honestly had no idea what to do with her day after meeting with Rosalee, but she knew she wanted to spend it on herself. Her catastrophic meltdown last night showed that she had pushed herself to the breaking point.

Not seeing Rosalee, Erin walked through the scattered tables to the one area that looked like a living room. A low coffee table had been situated in front of a small sofa with two arm chairs facing it. A bookshelf closed in one end and gave the area a sense of privacy while still keeping it open to the rest of the room. Above the sofa, a print of some exotic garden momentarily distracted her, but the coffee table book captured Erin's attention.

Open to a picture of an infinity pool, the focal point of the entire photograph was the enclosed daybed at the end of the pool. Rich wood pillars framed the area, and a matching wood screen offset warm golden walls. Erin slowly settled onto the couch, picking up the book and staring at the photo. She instantly relaxed and smiled. _This_ was what she wanted for her bedroom.

"Hey." Rosalee's hesitant voice pulled Erin back to the present. She looked up, blinking as the other woman laughed. "Earth to Erin."

"Sorry." Erin checked the back of the book and grinned when she saw the price tag. She could afford this and so much more. "I've been thinking about redecorating my apartment, and this is just perfect!"

Rosalee frowned. "You can do that?"

"Yes." Erin smiled. "I own the place, and it's more of a condo than an apartment. But I've always called it an apartment. Still. . . ."

Rosalee grinned again. "Let's get tea and buy your book so you can drool some more."

Erin laughed at that idea, wondering where Rosalee had found this dry sense of humor. She'd always known that the woman hid more than she revealed, but it surprised her nonetheless. Not to mention her own gleefulness. Just last night, she'd been ready to attack Nathan and then virtually crying on his shoulder. Now, she was ready to change everything in her apartment. Part of her wondered if she shouldn't slow down and think this through. The other part of her, the part holding the wallet, said to ignore caution and create a space just for her.

After buying their tea, Erin led Rosalee to a high table and slid into the chair. She forced herself to set the book aside rather than flipping through it to find what other treasures she could. She met Rosalee's eyes. "How are you?"

"Good." Rosalee nodded. "I almost cancelled today."

"Why?"

"Because I woke up with that stomach flu again."

Erin's eyes narrowed. "Again? How long have you had it?"

"A couple weeks." Rosalee shook her head. "It's been going around the house, so I think I keep getting it back from one of the kids there."

"Maybe you should see a doctor."

"I'm fine." Rosalee waved it aside. "I just make sure I drink plenty of fluids and don't eat anything too spicy. I'll be okay. I want to hear about Nathan." She drew out the last syllable of his name, making Erin's face heat as she remembered the previous evening.

"He's my just neighbor."

"You're blushing, which mean's he's more than _just_ a neighbor." Rosalee took a sip of her tea. "C'mon. Spill."

"I'm not sure there's anything to spill." Erin shifted in her seat and had a hard time remembering the last time she'd felt this awkward about anything. "I showed up at his door last night on an emotional rampage. He let me come in and pour my guts out while he served me tea. Given that he's a guy and I'm a woman, I'm not sure he's gonna want to see me again."

"Yeah, he will." Rosalee smiled. "He's too good to let you go."

"And you know this how?"

"Because you like him. That's enough for me."

Erin blinked at the vote of confidence. "Rose, I'm not the best judge of character. Not normally."

"Well, this is the one time you're going to judge right."

"Okay, what's got you so chipper today?"

"I don't know." Rosalee shrugged. "I just feel. . .good."

Erin eyed her, her mind already flying to the possibilities. But she kept her mouth closed and opened her book again. "How about we talk about my apartment? I have _nothing_ in there, and I need to do a lot of work."

Rosalee let the subject change and spent the next two hours pouring over Erin's new book while generating ideas. By the time they left Atticus, Erin even had sketches of room lay-outs on napkins. Her enthusiasm for the project hadn't been dampened, but she knew it would be a massive job to change her entire life. But the idea of having a place to relax at the end of the day appealed more and more with every crisis that she faced. With the decision made, she turned her car in the direction of the nearest paint store.

~oOo~

Nathan slept late the next day and rose only when his hip started to ache. He normally didn't spend much time sleeping, but the previous night's emotions worked on him. Namely, Erin's invasion of his home. He would never tell her, but he'd been a bit disturbed by her intrusion. Yes, he'd told her to knock on the door if she ever needed anything. But he'd meant help, cooking supplies, and the like. Not emotional support. His line of work did not invest a lot of time into the emotions of those he protected. In a kill-or-be-killed situation, he had been trained to protect his clients, taking a bullet for them rather than risk losing someone as valuable as the Princess of Wales. Or Charles Manchester, CEO of Rockwood Engineering.

Instead of that, he'd sat and listened to a distraught woman pour out her life. When he first met Erin, he thought her very composed and elegant. Now, he wondered about her. Was she really as composed as he imagined? She'd seemed overwhelmed by the design of his apartment, not to mention his hospitality. And his hug.

Nathan shook his head as he settled into his chair and grabbed his latest book. Last night, he'd impulsively hugged her, something that he hadn't done in recent years. Most women he knew tensed up at a simple hug. Instead, Erin had melted into his arms, the height difference between them due to her heeled boots not an issue. And, as she left his apartment, he thought he saw her wipe away a few tears.

Realizing that he'd been staring at the same page for the last twenty minutes, Nathan pushed to his feet and walked over to his window. He truly cared about Erin, more than he'd cared about anyone in years. His time in the palace had taught him to be distant and respectful. To relish personal space. He glanced around. Maybe he relished personal space a bit too much. This apartment, while opulent and reminiscent of the palace, was empty. No photos. No little bits out of place. Only his desk showed usage, as well as the small tray in the entry way.

Erin's music started again, and Nathan pressed his lips together. He had two choices. He could either ignore her and move, or he could embrace this new turn in his life. Erin clearly needed a friend, and she'd turned to him. If she knew half of what he'd done, she would likely walk out of his life forever. But he could not turn his back on her. Decision made, he left his apartment to knock on her door.

~oOo~

Erin barely heard the knock over the music. Frowning, she left her now-empty bed room, wound her way through the mess in the living room, and opened the door. Nathan blinked at her, and she suddenly realized how she must have looked. When she'd arrived home from her shopping spree with too many bags to carry, she'd made multiple trips from her car. Then, while everything had been dumped into the kitchen, she'd changed into a paint-stained tank top and shorts.

Ignoring the way her face heated, she smiled. "Hi."

"I wanted to see how you were doing today." Nathan let his eyes drift over her once and then looked her in the eye. "I apologize if I interrupted."

"You didn't." Erin glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. Swinging the door wide, she smiled. "Care to come in?"

Nathan stepped inside and looked around. "You are remodeling?"

"Repainting, actually." She shrugged. "I found a picture in a coffee table book at Atticus. I'm redoing my bedroom right now." When he eyed her again, she grinned. "Here. Take a look."

Grabbing the book, Erin pointed out the picture and waited for Nathan's reaction. The glimpses she'd seen of his own home showed an elegant, refined taste. The spa-like look she'd chosen couldn't have been more different. He studied the photo and glanced around. "This is very pretty."

"Thank you." She shrugged. "I haven't really taken much time to establish a place to relax, and I thought it was time. I mean, with Antonio gone now, I'll be spending a lot more time here. Maybe, if I can get this condo arranged like I want it, I'll be more productive instead of running from one project to the next."

Nathan pointed to the picture. "How do you plan to do this?"

"I'm repainting my bedroom now." She shrugged. "The fumes will force me to sleep out here tonight, but I'm okay with that. I'm still looking for a bed frame, but I've got different little accessories to go with it. Like new bedding and such." Then, she stared at him. "I'm sorry. I'm running off at the mouth again."

He actually chuckled, bringing out those amazing dimples. "It's quite alright. I don't mind."

"Good."

"So, can you use an extra hand in painting?"

Erin glanced down at the slacks and button-down shirt he wore. "Sure. But you'll need clothes you don't care about."

"I'll be back shortly."

As he let himself out of her apartment, Erin stared. Had her amazingly hot neighbor just promised to help her paint her bedroom? Rosalee would have a fit about this! Instead of letting the giddy, school-girl emotions take over, she went to the bedroom and arranged the drop cloths she'd bought. She'd chosen warm honey gold for the walls. Her bathroom, which could be glimpsed through the door in the bedroom, would be the cool aqua of the picture's infinity pool. She'd found a large square wall hanging made of dark, almost black, wood, which would be framed by the white sheers she planned to use as a canopy when she finally found the bed frame of her dreams. She could already feel herself settling into the project.

Nathan returned within five minutes, dressed in a slightly frayed button-down shirt and faded slacks. He followed her to the bedroom and eyed the walls. She'd already taped off the trim, which would be painted a bright white. Looking around, he nodded. "Where would you like me to start?"

"Um. . . ." Erin considered that for a moment. "Here." She pointed to the wall with the window. "I'll start over here and work the other way around the room."

"And how do you do this?" His question, so serious, made her blink.

"You've never painted before?"

"No." He shrugged. "Back in England, I worked for. . .a very wealthy family. They hired outside decorators to do the painting and such. I know the mechanics, but I don't want to ruin your space."

Erin shook her head. "Painting is very easy." She grabbed a roller, poured some paint into the pan, and showed him exactly what she wanted.

For a long time, they worked in silence with the occasional comment here and there. Finally, he glanced at her. "I wasn't aware you could paint the interior of these apartments."

Erin grinned. "That's because I own mine. I can't paint the outside of the door without approval, but the inside is all mine to do with as I please."

He grinned at her. "You're very lucky. The beige walls are driving me insane."

"You're used to more color, then?"

"Very much so."

When the fumes became too much, they stepped into the living room to drink a glass of water and eye all the different pieces of her life. Erin sighed. None of them matched. Finally, she met Nathan's eyes. "Thank you. For everything. Especially last night."

This time, his eyes took on a softer glow when he smiled. "It was my pleasure."

Not surprisingly, Erin believed him.

~oOo~

Rockwood Engineering had a reputation for hiring young, brilliant researchers fresh out of university. However, Charles Manchester stayed out of the day to day operations, preferring to allow Human Resources to hire and fire people. Which explained why most of the firm's security personnel had histories of military special forces. Or, in Nathan's case, a fake history with the RAF.

On Monday, Nathan stood in the video surveillance room and watched the night security feeds as was his habit. Painting with Erin last night left him wanting to enjoy her company more often. She'd laughed with him about the paint speckles on his face, and he'd teased her about coloring her hair. He yanked his mind back to the present when Manchester appeared without warning. "Nathan."

"Yes, Sir?" Nathan turned from the video feeds and straightened. At about five-nine, he wasn't the most physically intimidating person. However, his broad shoulders made Manchester's slender frame look frail.

"I've received a request to have you help Drs. Satters and Collins with an experiment." Manchester eyed him. "Apparently, they want no one but you."

Nathan nodded and headed out the door without another word. He knew exactly who Satters and Collins were. Collins had years of experience in weapon's R&D. Satters, however, had a crush on Nathan. And, since Collins was grooming Satters to take his place, he listened to her.

In the lab, Nathan ignored Satters's lovestruck stare and met Collins's eyes. "You needed to see me?" Normally, he allowed a hint of his British accent to escape. Today, he completely flattened his tongue and squelched it. It made speaking rather difficult for him, but he refused to do more to attract Satters's attention.

"Yes." Collins reached behind him and picked up something that looked like a science fiction pistol. "We call this the PGV-3."

Nathan raised an eyebrow, not giving the scientists the pleasure of seeing him smile. "PGV-3?"

"Plasma Gun, Version Three." Collins handed it over to Nathan. "We'd like you to fire it for us. That way, we can monitor the output and performance of the weapon. Neither of us are truly qualified to fire such a weapon even though we've developed it."

Nathan suspected that _Satters_ wasn't qualified and that she wanted to see him with the weapon in his hands. Either way, he wanted more information. "What happened to Versions One and Two?"

"Uh. . .they didn't work out as planned." Collins gave Satters a quick glance.

"Would you mind terribly much explaining that?" Nathan asked.

Satters stepped over to his side, just close enough that he could smell her perfume. Which, in Nathan's mind, was too close. "They weren't entirely successful." She put what should have been a comforting hand on his shoulder and gazed up into his face. "But that shouldn't happen here. We've found and fixed all of the instabilities in the design."

"You're sure?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes." She beamed at him.

"Very well." Nathan walked over to the firing range they'd set up and weighed the weapon in his hands. This was the future of the US military. Science fiction wasn't that far away, and he knew better than to be superstitious about it.

This particular gun weighed about as much as a Desert Eagle 50 caliber pistol. It settled into his palm like one, too. Nathan took a typical shooter's stance, aimed at the target, and pulled the trigger.

The gun exploded in his hands.

~TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** I have to extend several HUGE thank yous in this chapter. First of all, to my friend and beta, **theicemenace**, who sat and refined portions of this chapter until they became some of our shared favorites of the story. And to my "dialect coach," **LMXB**, who helped me out with some genuine Brit. That said, some of the wordage used in this chapter is NOT considered cursing. I asked as I'm not from the UK. As always, enjoy! ~lg

~oOo~

Erin thought about her bedroom all day. She'd slept reasonably well on the sofa the night before, the clutter bothering her only when she stubbed her toe on the way to the shower that morning. At lunch, she sat on her computer and browsed different furniture websites, trying to get an idea of the bed she wanted. She'd already checked her saving's account and knew more than enough money remained. She spent very little on herself, and her paychecks paid the bills. The money from her mother's life insurance—the part that she hadn't used to buy the condo—just sat in the account and drew interest. _Time to put that to use,_ she thought.

By the end of the day, Erin couldn't wait to get home. She'd ordered a bed, and it would be delivered late the next day. The dark wood of the four posters would match the wall hanging well, and the white sheers would drape over the cross-pieces very nicely. Two matching bedside tables had been added to the order, as well as a dresser and armoire for the room. While the bedroom wasn't overly large, it comprised almost a full half of the condo. Erin determined to fill it up with quality furniture.

After changing into work clothes, Erin grinned at the still-empty room. She had already leaned her box springs and mattress against one wall of her living room, and she tried to bring some organization to her new purchases. A dark brown comforter, complete with aqua accents and pillows, would allow her normal bed to have a daybed feel. Different arrangements complete with stackable rocks and spa-like touches would grace the tops of the new dressers. With hammer in hand, she set about putting up the wall-hanging before she even thought about painting the bathroom.

Her phone rang just as she grabbed a roll of painter's tape. Erin snatched it up without glancing at the number. "Yeah?"

"Hey, Nutmeg." Her father's warm voice made her close her eyes. How could she have forgotten about that whole situation?

"Hey, Dad."

"Did I catch you at your class?" Vernon hesitated. "You sound breathless."

"No, my class is tomorrow evening." Erin glanced around. "You caught me doing some housework." _Right. Giving a cookie-cutter condo a face lift is a little more than housework_, she thought.

"Well, Elizabeth and I were hoping you could join us for dinner tonight." Vernon's smile could be heard. "Nothing fancy. Just Applebee's or Chili's. Someplace like that."

"Um. . . ." Erin set down the painter's tape. So much for painting the bathroom. "Sure. Just give me a couple hours to get ready and be there."

"Of course." Vernon hung up after promising to meet her in two hours.

Erin grumbled the entire time she searched through her old chest of drawers in the living room. Yanking her clothing into the bathroom, she started the hot water and glared at the beige walls. She wanted to work on her home, not spend it trying to get to know her future step-mom. Then, she reminded herself that neither Vernon nor Elizabeth had announced anything official. But Erin saw through the smiles and glowing eyes. The two were bound for the altar, and it didn't matter what Erin thought.

An hour later, she stepped out of her apartment with her keys in hand. She would get there a bit early, but that worked in her favor. If she got there early, she'd get the table first. Give her the upper hand. Then, she shook her head. She was thinking about this politically, not like a daughter should. Of course, Elizabeth's political connections, not to mention her judicial career, made Erin's mind jump to those ramifications.

"Bollocks!" The soft, foreign exclamation brought her head around. Nathan stood next to his door, glaring down at the set of keys now on the floor. With his suit jacket folded over one arm, the thick white bandages on both of his hands seemed even more pronounced. As did the bright red mark up his neck and jaw. "This is feckin' r'dic-a-lous. You c'n barely get the bloody keys from your pocket, much less get in the door, fix supper, or anythin'. The _wazzocks_. What were they thinkin' puttin' such bloody big bandages on m' hands? I should give 'em a right ol' down-the-banks." He bent to pick up the keys, still muttering, "I'll tell you what. _I'm_ the bloody wazzock. What was _I _thinking to pick up that stupid, bloody gun. I shoulda known better, what with that _woman_ involved. An' the other versions didn' work out? Bloody r'dic-a-lous!"

Erin grinned, finding his continued rant somewhat amusing in spite of the fact that she could barely understand any of it. Stepping toward him when the keys slipped from his hands a second time, she forced the grin from her face. "Nathan?"

He turned and, surprisingly, gave her an embarrassed chuckle. "Mind helpin' me out 'ere?" He bent and scooped up the keys again. "I can't seem t' get 'em in the bloody door."

Erin took the keys from him, her eyes assessing him. He seemed okay in spite of the bandages. As she opened his door, she frowned. "What happened?"

"Work." He nearly growled the word as he clumsily hung his suit coat on the coat rack. "Come in."

She followed him inside, more amused at his irritation than anything. "Care to share more than that?"

He turned to her. "I wish I could." His eyes narrowed. "Do you have plans for the evening?"

"Unfortunately, yes." She let a small grin escape. "Why? Is that another dinner invitation?"

"Hardly." He held up his hands. "If I were to ask you to dinner, it wouldn't be with these. . ._clubs_ as hands. No, this is more self-serving. Do you mind pouring me a drink and calling some Chinese place for take-out?"

Erin's grin fully escaped. "Not at all." Then, as he settled into his favorite chair, she froze. "Did they give you any pain medication at the hospital?"

He glanced sharply at her and nodded, somewhat petulant in his admittance.

She headed for the kitchen. "Then it's tea for you. No alcohol."

He sent a longing look toward the Scotch. "Bollocks!"

Erin had a horrible time keeping the laugh inside. She allowed her grin to escape as she filled the tea kettle with water and set it to boil. "You'll have to walk me through this since I've never made this kind of tea before."

"Of course." He looked at her, his accent settling back into the refined version she was accustomed to hearing from him. "I do apologize for this."

"Don't worry about it." She smiled. "You listened to me whine and complain the other night."

"That was not whining," he corrected, lifting what would have been his index finger.

Rather than arguing, Erin motioned to his hands. "I know the details are confidential, but mind telling me what you did to your hands?"

"I burned them." He settled back in his chair and gave her quick instructions for making tea. As she worked, he shook his head. "To make matters worse, I now have the next three days off. I don't necessarily dislike take-out, but I don't want to live on the stuff, either."

Trying her hardest to remember the way he'd set up the tea tray the other night, she pulled two cups and saucers from the cabinet. A bit of searching produced the matching sugar dish, complete with sugar cubes, and the cream. As the tea steeped in the teapot, she perched on the edge of the other wingback chair and pulled out her phone. "I need to call my father."

"Did I interrupt family plans?"

"No." She shrugged. "Well, yes. But we're going to a place where you don't have to have a reservation. I just want to let him know I'll be late."

Nathan nodded and leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he did so. Erin took that as her cue to make the call and dialed from memory. Her father's warm answer made her smile. "Dad."

"Nutmeg!" Vernon's voice dropped. "Are you about to cancel on us?"

"No, just postpone." She ignored his use of the word "us." "My neighbor had a bit of a situation develop, so I'll be about an hour late."

"Everything okay?"

"Yes. Just some complications from work." She carefully avoided letting her father know her neighbor was male.

"Okay. See you in a bit."

She hung up the phone and went to the kitchen to retrieve the tea and the phone book. Nathan watched her carefully set the tray on the table with the Tiffany lamp and grinned at her. "Nutmeg?"

This time, she didn't even bother to perch. She dropped into the chair. "You heard that?"

"Yes." He raised an eyebrow. "A nickname?"

"Yes."

"How did you come to be known as 'Nutmeg?'"

Erin's eyes narrowed as she poured a cup of tea. "Tell you what. You tell me where you're really from, and I'll tell you about my nickname."

He seemed somewhat surprised. After a moment, he accepted the tea. "Very well." He clumsily held the teacup and eyed her over the rim. "I'm from Liverpool."

"Liverpool?" She tried to place it on her mental map.

He nodded. "It's northwest of London, right on the coast of England." He paused long enough to sip the tea. "I spent enough time in Surrey that I don't normally speak like I was out there."

"And Surrey is. . .?"

"A county near London." He eyed her. "And the name?"

Erin actually flushed and shook her head. "I got the nickname 'Nutmeg' when I was four. I barely remember it, but my dad called me that ever since." She shook her head. "We lived in an old house with a spice rack in the lower cabinets. It pulled out, almost like a drawer on its side. Anyway, I somehow got into it and started tasting Mom's spices. And, from what I'm told, nutmeg was my favorite. My father still has pictures of me with it all over my face."

Nathan laughed. "I imagine that was a sight to behold."

"No, not really." She laughed with him.

He sobered and picked up the phone book. "I should order my dinner and let you be on your way."

She shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not too thrilled about this dinner. It's probably my dad telling me that he and his girlfriend have decided to get married."

He looked up sharply. "And that's a bad thing?"

"Not necessarily. But it could be."

"How?"

"My job and her job." She shook her head. "Look, until I go to dinner, I don't really want to get into it. After that, maybe I'll explain."

"Fair enough." He pointed out the phone number, and Erin dialed for him. As he placed his order and gave his address, her stomach growled. She hoped he didn't hear it and breathed a quick sigh of relief when he asked, "How is the repainting going?"

"Good." She nodded. "I bought all new furniture for the bedroom today."

Before the conversation could progress much further, the phone rang. Erin plucked it up from the table and glanced at the caller ID. She read off the numbers and waited for his reaction.

Nathan glared. "That's a Rockwood number." When she gave him a questioning glance, he waved his hand. "Go ahead."

Trying to sound as appropriate as possible, she answered, "Hello? Gleeson residence." She barely avoided sticking her tongue out at Nathan's frown.

"Um. . .is Nathan in?" The girl on the other end seemed uncertain. And very young.

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Dr. Julie Satters." The use of her title was apparently meant to make her sound older. Then, she drew in a deep breath. "This isn't his _wife_, is it?"

Erin froze for a fraction of a second. Had it been Antonio in that chair, she would have smoothly lied, saying that she and Antonio got married a week ago and hadn't told anyone yet. She couldn't do that with Nathan. "No, just a neighbor and friend. But Nathan isn't up for phone conversation right now. May I take a message?"

"Um. . . ." Satters hesitated again. "Just tell him I wanted to make sure he was okay."

"I'll do that." Erin hung up a few moments later. "She's awful young."

"And persistent." He glared. "I was injured in her lab. Thank you for fielding that call."

"You're welcome."

They spent the next twenty minutes talking about her decorating decisions. Erin barely kept from sardonically commenting on his interest. Or maybe he was just making conversation. Not wanting to figure out which one it was, she gladly chattered about anything he brought up. As she walked to the door after accepting his order, she turned to him. "If you'd like, you can come over for dinner tomorrow evening. It'll be late since I won't eat until after the fitness class, but it won't be take-out."

Nathan smiled, his eyes sparkling in spite of the way he kept fiddling with the bandages on his hands. "Thank you. I'll let you know."

"Do that." She walked away and drove to the restaurant as she thought about her impulsive invitation. She wasn't an exceptionally good cook, so asking him to dinner almost defeated the purpose of putting her best foot forward. _You destroyed that option when you knocked on his door in an emotional fit, _she thought.

At the restaurant, she met her father and Elizabeth at the door, still waiting for a table. Her stomach rumbled again, this time at the smell of wonderful food. Vernon gave her a brief hug and frowned. "Is your neighbor okay?"

"Yes. An accident at work. Nothing more." She waved her hand, hoping her father left it alone. She was a US Marshal, after all. She didn't need her father trying to investigate Nathan's past. She wouldn't appreciate it, and he most definitely would not. Instead, she glanced at Elizabeth. "Enjoying your time in Dallas?"

"Yes."

They spent the next fifteen minutes chatting about local attractions. Erin breathed a sigh of relief when their number was called and settled into a chair at the table. After perusing the menu, she decided to stay with her normal fare. She'd already invited Nathan over for dinner the next night, after all. That was impulsive enough. She ordered a steak, medium-well, and a baked potato.

After the waiter took their menus back to the front of the restaurant, Vernon sat back and took Elizabeth's hand. "Erin, honey, I think you know why Liz and I wanted to see you."

Erin set down her iced tea. "You're getting married."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. But we also want to have your blessing before we do this. I don't want to take the place of your mother. I would never try. But. . . ."

Erin held up a hand. "If you say you want to be friends, I'll walk out of here simply because it's cliché." She smiled at Vernon. "I kinda knew this day would come, Dad. And I'm okay with it. Yeah, I'll have to get used to it. But, all things considered, _this_ is the one mild spot in my life right now."

Elizabeth frowned. "Mild?"

Erin shook her head. "Don't ask. It's been a _horrible_ week. But, by the next time you guys visit, I'll have my apartment finished."

Vernon leaned forward. "Finished?"

Erin spent the next little bit telling about her plans to redecorate her home. After that, she listened to Elizabeth's ideas for a small wedding, finding that she really didn't mind the idea that someone other than her mother would fill her father's life. In fact, given the loneliness of the last few days, she rather envied him.

~TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Nathan spent the next day ensconced in his chair and ignoring the telephone. If Julie Satters called once, she called fifteen times. Manchester called sometime during the barrage, but Nathan didn't answer the call as he didn't want to assume it was Manchester and find Satters on the other end. He really needed to do something about the woman, but ideas escaped him right now. Probably a side effect of the drugs the hospital had given him the day before.

He was lucky. Or so the doctor who treated his hands said. The Rockwood staff physician had been on the scene mere minutes after the explosion and simply shook his head. Apparently, Nathan instinctively threw the PGV-3 when it exploded, resulting in severe burns on his hands but minimal scarring when they healed. He'd recover full use of his hands, and his career in security wouldn't be in jeopardy. Had the gun exploded horizontally rather than vertically, however, he could have lost his hands, if not his life.

Pushing out of his chair close to sunset, Nathan walked to the window and looked out. The really good pain medication wore off around ten the night before, but he'd been unwilling to take more than Tylenol or Motrin for pain. He didn't like how the stronger stuff dulled his senses and lowered his inhibitions. It was bad enough Erin had managed to find out he was from Liverpool. He didn't need to spill any more of his secrets, especially since he wasn't sure where he stood with her.

"You're a fool, my friend," he said softly. Any man lucky enough to draw the attention of a woman like Erin Mitchell was fortunate indeed. Most men would have asked her out multiple times already. Instead, he'd dropped the subject after that one time. Why? "Because you're thinking too much," he answered himself. Then he grinned. He'd always said he'd officially go insane when he started answering his own questions.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his melodramatic thoughts. Nathan glared. Had Satters given up calling him and decided to show up? Part of him wished Erin had just told Satters they were seeing each other. It would have solved so many problems right now. But Erin had done the right thing, and Satters clearly thought her chances were good.

Stomping to the door, he looked out the peephole and blinked. He quickly opened the door and stared at Erin. She wore another of her workout ensembles, and Nathan realized it was again Thursday evening. She was headed to the COPE house. Holding a stack of plates wrapped in foil, she flushed and grinned slightly. "I wasn't sure what you liked, but I know cooking has to be a real pain in the behind." She offered the plate. "I made some dinner."

"Thank you." Nathan accepted the plates, silently cursing the abnormally large bandages still on his hands. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Well, I haven't killed anyone, yet," she joked. Her eyes flitting from his to the hallway, she shrugged. "I need to go. But I wanted. . . .Anyway, enjoy, and I'll see you later." Not giving him a chance to speak, she took off down the hall and disappeared into the elevator.

Nathan chuckled and closed his door. Erin could bring a smile to his face faster than any comedy routine ever dreamed of doing. Carrying the plate into the kitchen, he clumsily removed the foil and surveyed the meal. She'd prepared some sort of green bean dish, which looked like it included onions, garlic, and bacon bits. Potato wedges with chunks of chicken mixed in completed the plate, and he grinned at the slice of store-bought pie. He'd have to use a fork, but he wouldn't have to try operating a knife. Testing the food and finding it a touch cool, he stuck it in the microwave as he started tea. A warm dinner and pie with tea would end the day on a perfect note. Maybe, afterward, he'd take a horsepill and sleep off the effects. The plan seemed sound, and Nathan made a note to get some sort of gift for Erin once he'd recovered enough to think straight.

~oOo~

Rosalee was nowhere in sight when Erin arrived at the COPE house. Erin frowned but started the class normally. She smiled through the good-natured groans of the other women and let out a brief sigh of relief when she finished the abs section. She'd always struggled with planks, and tonight was no exception. Finally, when the class ended, Erin headed for the office.

Chloe Reynolds, the director for this particular home, waited for her. "I knew you'd be coming in."

Erin nodded. Chloe knew of her profession as a US Marshal and often asked her to keep an eye on this woman or that child. "Where's Rosalee?"

"Sick." Chloe lifted one eyebrow eloquently and nodded toward the hall leading to the dormitory area. "She keeps saying she's got the flu, but this has lasted for two weeks at least. The last case of the flu only lasted twenty-four hours and was a week ago."

Erin nodded. "May I go see her?"

Chloe held out a hand, her French tip manicure bright against her chocolate brown skin. "Be my guest. Maybe you can convince her to see a doctor."

Erin left her gym bag next to the front door and headed for Rosalee's bedside. She found the woman staring at the ceiling, a bag-lined trash can next to her bed. "Hey."

Rosalee turned slowly. "Hi. What are you doing here?" she asked weakly.

"Well, when one of my friends is sick, I usually get a little concerned." Erin ignored the trash can and pulled over a chair. "What's going on?"

"I don't know." Rosalee swallowed hard. "I was fine until today. It must be this flu."

"Rose, don't give me that line again." Erin lowered her voice slightly to let her friend know she meant business. "You can't keep going like this. You _need _to see a doctor."

"I'll think about it." She would have said more but dove for the trash can.

Erin sat with her head turned while Rosalee emptied her stomach of a few crackers. "Don't think about it. Do."

"You sound like Yoda."

"So I've been told."

"How are you? How's Nathan?"

Erin shook her head at the question. "He injured his hands at work yesterday, and the hospital put these huge bandages on his hands. Now, he can hardly do anything."

"Did you take him dinner?"

Erin flushed and had to admit to being amazed the thought of helping Nathan made her feel like an innocent school girl. "Of course."

"Good."

Erin could see Rosalee was fading and rose, putting her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Seriously, go see a doctor."

Rosalee nodded again, and Erin left her alone. She was more concerned than she admitted to herself, and she drove home while running through the possible causes for Rosalee's illness. One in particular stood out, and Erin didn't like the picture it painted. Joe was a real piece of work, and Erin was of a mind to give him what-for about it.

At her apartment, she glanced at Nathan's door and barely stopped herself from knocking. She'd already seen him that day, and he looked okay. Tired, but okay. Instead, she let herself into her condo and grinned. Her furniture had been delivered late the previous night, and she hadn't had a chance to set it up. She decided that she had just enough energy left to set up her bed and sleep in her newly decorated room.

~oOo~

Erin's little pep talk to Rosalee worked on her all night. She woke and stared at the canopy she'd spent way too long hanging over her bed and let out a deep sigh. She had to tell her supervisor about Elizabeth Walters, and she wasn't looking forward to that. It would change how she operated as a Marshal, not to mention restricting her from working in certain areas of the nation. She was fairly certain she wouldn't lose her job over this, but it would complicate things.

She dressed for work as she looked around her room. The honey-gold walls really made the darkness of her bed leap out, and the white canopy added an exotic touch. Erin already planned to add the dark dresser and chest of drawers that evening, finishing out the room with white flowers and the comforter set she'd purchased. She still had her kitchen, bathroom, and living room to do, but this was definitely a good start.

Deciding she couldn't put off the inevitable any longer, Erin left for work already planning her dinner for that night. Having someone else to cook for really made it clear how vital a kitchen was to a household. Not that Nathan was part of her household. But she liked having someone who welcomed her with a smile and didn't criticize her cooking to her face.

At the office, Erin walked inside already dreading her conversation with Jerald. She ignored the mess on her desk and headed for his office. He glanced up when she knocked and waved her inside, already trying to get off the phone. As she settled into the chair, she wondered just how to break the news.

Finally, Jerald ended his call. "Erin. What's up?"

Classic Jerald. Always to the point. Figuring she should take his lead, she blurted, "My step-mom's a federal judge."

He took a few moments to absorb that, blinking at her. "You've been a Marshal for how long? And you're telling us this now?"

"Well, it's not like I knew." Erin frowned. "They barely told me day before yesterday!"

"And 'they' would be your father and the federal judge?" When Erin nodded, Jerald let out a deep breath. "Then, this is a recent development?"

"Yeah." She relaxed. "I would have told you sooner, but I didn't know anything for certain until two days ago. It took me that long to absorb what it meant as a family, not just professionally."

He held up a hand. "I'm not blaming you. But it does complicate things."

"I know."

"The judge's name?"

"Elizabeth Walters."

Jerald closed his eyes. "You would wind up with one of the more conservative, yet controversial, judges as your step-mom."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Just that it fits your personality." He waved her into silence. "Let me deal with this. I'll make sure everything's copacetic with the higher ups, and I'll also make sure none of your work overlaps with any of her cases. Just. . . ." He grinned. "Let me know when the wedding is."

Erin groaned. "Don't even remind me."

She left Jerald's office and dropped into her desk chair. With that little bit of housekeeping off her plate, she was free to plan her day. Looking over the paperwork, it became clear that the office had covered most of the big cases so she could recover from Antonio's death. While she appreciated that, she wished she hadn't been such a burden to them. It was time to grow up and carry her own burdens.

As she organized her desk, she grinned. She had dinner to cook that evening, and she hoped Nathan liked what she made. Even if he didn't, she planned to enjoy the casserole take on shish kabobs while figuring out what colors she wanted in her kitchen.

~oOo~

When the doctors removed Nathan's bandages almost a week later, he nearly jumped for joy. Instead, he accepted the prescription for medicated cream and tried to ignore how stiff his hands really were. The heat of the sun coming through his car's windshield stung, and he knew he still had a bit longer before he was fully recovered. But, with the bandages removed, he could finally return to work.

He drove to the nearest Wal-Mart to get his prescription filled and then stopped in to Atticus. Erin had mentioned the other night that she liked the blueberry-vanilla tea here, and he wanted to get her a thank-you gift. She'd appeared each night with a different meal and usually gave him enough to have left-overs for lunch the next day. While some of the meals were mediocre, some of them, like the chicken salad with apples, celery, and pecans, were phenomenal. And he appreciated the thought it took to feed him. She hadn't acted put out, either. Quite the opposite. She seemed almost embarrassed by her offerings.

As he waited at Atticus, he glanced around and spotted the perfect gift to go with the tea. Walking over to the wall dedicated to teapots, he picked up one with classic lines. White with a blue pattern, it depicted a weeping willow draped over a pond with a Victorian house in the background. And it came with two matching tea cups, saucers, sugar dish, and cream pitcher. While a bit more expensive than he'd originally thought, he grinned. Erin had been completely fascinated with his own porcelain tea set, and he decided right then to get it for her.

After making his purchases, he headed back to Wal-Mart for his medication and then home. Once inside, he set the boxed tea set on the table and stared at it. Now for wrapping. It took him the better part of an hour to wrap the box until it looked decent enough to give away, but Nathan eventually settled for less-than-perfect. This was a gift for a friend, not a formal event at the palace. Erin would appreciate the effort, he knew, and he decided to not to make a big deal of the paper.

When she would have knocked on his door, Nathan hefted the large box and headed out. He'd told Erin that he would be getting his bandages off that day, so she had nodded and wished him well. Now, he listened to the quiet in the corridor as he knocked on her door.

She answered with a surprised look. "Nathan."

"Hello." He held up the package, which he'd wrapped in blue paper. "I wanted to bring a little something by as a thank you for all your help this week."

A pretty pink color stained her cheeks. "Thank you!" She accepted the box, her surprise at its weight obvious, and stepped back. "Come on in."

Nathan looked around as he stepped inside. The last time he'd been her, the entire contents of her bedroom had cluttered the area. Now, a tired beige sofa sat against the windows while cans of paint lined the walls. "Repainting in here?"

"Yeah." She glanced over as she set the box on her breakfast bar. "I still don't know what I want to do in the kitchen, but I decided on sage green for my living room. The bedroom's finished, by the way. Wanna see it?"

"Sure." With his hands in his pockets, he followed her into the newly-completed bedroom suite. The aqua green of the bathroom peeked through a door, but the warmth of the bedroom made him smile. She'd chosen black furniture with sleek, modern lines to accent the spa-like décor. White lilies littered the surfaces, and he immediately relaxed. "It's beautiful."

She flushed again. "Thanks. I'm going a little more organic and less refined for the living room, but I'm happy with how it's turning out."

Nathan followed her back to the kitchen and waited while she opened the gift. When she saw the box, her face lit up, and he knew he'd made the right choice. "I thought that you needed a tea set to go with the tea, so I picked this up."

"Nathan, this is beautiful!" Erin immediately began to unpack the tea set. When she pulled the teapot out of its Styrofoam packing, she grinned. "Wow!"

"I'm glad you like it."

"Are you kidding? It's the only thing in my kitchen that matches." She beamed at him. "It's gorgeous!"

Somewhat uncomfortable with the attention, he watched as she finished unpacking the set and laying out the pieces. "I really do appreciate you stopping by each day. It made life a bit easier."

She shrugged. "It was nice to have someone to cook for." After an awkward moment, she grinned at him. "Tea?"

"Of course."

They finally found a topic to chat about while the tea brewed. Erin showed him the color for the living room walls, and Nathan shook his head. When this woman started anything, she went all the way. There was no halfway doing something with her.

Finally, with tea poured and Erin settled in a mismatched chair, he found his tongue. "Would you care to join me for dinner this weekend?"

She took a moment to sip her tea and nodded. "I'd love to. And, since my father and his fiance left two days ago, there shouldn't be anything to get in the way besides, maybe, work."

He rolled his eyes. "Work will do that." Considering the calendar, he grinned. "Is tomorrow night too soon?"

Erin flushed a third time, proving to Nathan that he dearly loved that shade on her. "Tomorrow's perfect."

Happy with how the evening ended, Nathan excused himself and walked back home with a grin. Rarely had a gift gone over so well. And rarely had he ever enjoyed an evening tea as much as he enjoyed that one.

~TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** So you know, I wasn't planning to post today. But, all the work aside, I decided that posting was better than just about anything else. So, enjoy! ~lg

~oOo~

Nathan called the next morning to ask if that evening would work for Erin. She agreed, already anticipating a time spent with him that wasn't emotionally fraught or due to an injury. The more she got to know of him, the more she liked him. In many ways, he reminded her of Antonio. He listened when she spoke, did little things to make her smile, and was always concerned for her wellbeing. But that's where the similarities ended. Antonio was always somewhat short-tempered, and he liked to take his work home. The month that they'd virtually lived together, Erin had often found him awake in the wee hours of the morning, mulling over a late-night epiphany. While she didn't yet know Nathan that well, she saw the way he tried to leave things behind when he ended the day. The night he'd injured his hands, he'd been loath to bring up anything related to work. With Antonio, what you saw was what you got. Nathan possessed depths that Erin had yet to figure out. Not that Antonio was shallow or careless. But he wasn't Nathan.

That thought brought Erin's thoughts to a complete stop. The depths of her feelings for Nathan surprised her. In an all-out comparison between the two men in her life, Nathan came out on top. Antonio was her friend, her comrade-in-arms, and her co-conspirator when plotting April Fool's tricks. Nathan was. . .she wasn't sure, but she wanted to find out.

She thought about their date that night all through the day and went home wondering exactly what to wear. Her tight jeans and leather jacket wouldn't work for this date. It meant too much to her. Nathan had kept her from doing what she would regret, and she didn't want to ruin any chance she might have with him. His refinement brought a needed element to her life, not to mention making her feel pretty special.

Her phone rang as she stood in front of the closet debating her wardrobe. She glanced at the number and frowned. "Mitchell."

"It's me." Nathan's British accent warmed her face. "I'm calling from a work phone."

Erin smiled at first, thinking that he'd called to let her know he was thinking about her. Then, the tension in his voice struck her. "Something happened."

"Yes." He let out a deep sigh. "We've had a security breach," he explained in a low voice. "I can't get away until this is over."

"I understand." She injected some compassion into her voice. "Don't worry about this, Nathan."

"I'm terribly sorry about all this. I truly meant. . . ."

"I know." She let out a deep breath. "Just wait until I tell you what I do for a living. Now, go take care of your work. Just call me when you're done."

He hung up, and Erin grabbed her paint clothes. She hadn't started painting in her living room and decided now would be a good time. With her evening plans postponed, she figured she'd get a head-start on the weekend's work. Covering her furniture in plastic, she opened the sage green paint and poured it into the paint pan. As she rolled the first coat onto the walls, she smiled. This green would transform the entire area, and it would make her old couch seem less impersonal until she was able to get a new one.

Rather than turning on the music, Erin left her apartment quiet as she worked. She needed to think, and staying busy with a mindless task like painting seemed like a great way to do that. She needed to figure out what she wanted to do about Nathan. He deserved to know about her job as a US Marshal, about how dangerous it could turn, about how she could just not come home one day. That thought made her think of Antonio, and she resolved that she wouldn't have the same regrets about Nathan. He meant too much to her. It seemed odd to be thinking of him that way, but Erin always tried to consider the consequences of major decisions.

Her phone rang again just after she started applying the second coat of paint. She frowned at the number, not recognizing it. And it wasn't the same number Nathan had called from. "Mitchell."

"Erin?" Rosalee's timid voice sent Erin's heart rate through the roof. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No." Erin set aside her roller. "What's wrong?"

"I need to see you."

The request galvanized her. She glanced around, seeing that she could finish one wall with the paint she had left in the paint pan. "Okay. Atticus is open late. Give me thirty minutes, and I'll meet you there."

"Okay." Rosalee hung up the phone, and Erin rushed through getting that one wall finished. Rosalee had sounded scared, and that didn't sit well with Erin at all.

~oOo~

Nathan hung up the phone and turned to the security monitor. He'd hated calling Erin and cancelling their date for that night, but he'd been unable to break away. One of his men had been out of contact for over fifteen minutes. Nathan knew this was nothing unusual save for the current circumstances. During normal business operations, the security net stayed fairly quiet save for hourly check-ins. When a security alert was triggered, one of the guys would go investigate. It usually turned out to be an absent-minded scientist who forgot a purse or set of keys. This time, his man hadn't checked in to clear the scientist. And he hadn't responded when Nathan demanded a mandatory head count.

Lifting the mic in his cuff to his lips, he called, "Bryant, this is Security. Please respond." After another full minute, Nathan nodded to the two large armed men at the door. "Go check it out."

They nodded and left the room, smirking as they went. Nathan watched them go, already itching to get out there. He looked down at his hands, still tender from his encounter with that stupid gun last week. Until he could handle more than running security protocols from the central monitoring room, he refused to put himself into the thick of things. Not yet, anyway.

The door opened, and Manchester walked in. "What's happening?"

"We've had a security breach on level three, and Bryant is not responding." Nathan shook his head. "We've already checked in with all the scientists on level three, and none of them are on the premises."

"And who's on level three?"

"Alistair, Henryson, and Collins." Nathan scowled as he said that final name. All three scientists had massive labs dedicated to the development of military grade weaponry. Each one had a different specialty, and each one had a different assistant. Collins had been slightly injured when the PGV-3 exploded in Nathan's hands, but Satters had escaped anything save the loss of her job. Nathan still didn't think it a punishment severe enough, but he pushed aside his own irritation to focus on the current crisis.

Manchester caught the reference. "Collins? As in. . .?" He motioned to Nathan's hands.

"Yes."

"Ah." Manchester turned to the screen with the red warning blinking on and off.

The security net crackled to life in Nathan's ear. "We found Bryant. He's been attacked."

Nathan's heartbeat jumped into high gear as he calmly whirled from the monitors. "Where is he?"

"Level three, corridor C, broom closet."

Nathan frowned. Why would Bryant be in a broom closet? Then, he grinned. He'd be getting a piece of the action after all. Nodding to no one in particular, he said, "Hold your position. I'll be right there."

Manchester touched his shoulder. "Go. I'll coordinate from here."

Nathan wryly thought the man couldn't coordinate from a wet paper bag, but he didn't say a thing as he left the room. Once in the corridor, he checked his sidearm and called for three more security personnel to join him. Bryant had black belts in jujitsu, karate, and taekwondo. If anyone took him down, then that person would likely put up a fight.

By the time Nathan arrived at the broom closet, Bryant had regained consciousness. He sat against a wall, rubbing the large knot at the back of his head. "Sir, I'm sorry about this."

Nathan ignored the apology. "What happened?"

"I was looking for the source of the intrusion when someone hit me upside the head. I never saw them," Bryant insisted, "but they packed quite a punch."

Another of Nathan's men held up a metal pole like the ones stored in the back of the broom closet. He nodded once and turned back to Bryant. "You were looking for an intruder in the broom closet?"

Bryant wore a distinctly uncomfortable expression. "Uh. . . ."

"Save it," Nathan said abruptly. "After we solve this little issue, we can discuss what you were doing in the broom closet."

"Yes, Sir."

Turning from his injured man, he pointed to the two men who originally found him. "Stay here." Leading the remainder of the squad down the hall, he drew his weapon and began clearing labs. Nathan eyed the technology, knowing a shoot-out in one of these labs would result in one of several things: explosion, fire, or death. He needed to avoid all of those if he expected to take Erin to dinner the next night.

Dr. Alistair's lab was cleared in record time. Moving like a well-trained police squad, the company moved on to Dr. Henryson's lab. This one took a little longer to clear but went smoothly enough. Nathan never hesitated at the threshold of Collins's lab, and he narrowed his eyes at the glow of a computer monitor in the back. Giving his men silent instructions using hand signals, he crept forward. Rounding the corner to the computer, he blinked as Julie Satters shrieked.

Nathan let out a brief sigh when she raised both empty hands. "What are you doing here?"

"Nathan! You scared me!" She stood as if to approach him and froze when the other two guys, both carrying guns, appeared. "What's going on?"

"You're here, which means there's been a security breach." Nathan lowered his weapon and walked around the desk to see what she'd just done. "And don't try to pretend that you're staying late to work. I know for a fact that you were fired two days after that whole PGV thing." He narrowed his eyes at the computer monitor. A status bar showed a download was ninety-five percent complete. "What were you taking?"

She clenched her jaw.

Nathan waited for the download to finish and yanked the flash drive from the computer. "Doesn't matter. I'll take this to Manchester, and you'll be in jail for a while. Corporate espionage aside, you illegally entered the premises of your former employer. The only question that remains is what you intended to do with the information on this flash drive."

Her eyes widened as she realized her situation. "But. . . ." She started to cry. "I shouldn't have been fired! It was a mistake! Honest! An accident!"

He rounded on her. "You call an explosion that nearly killed me an 'accident?'"

"Nathan, I'm sorry! Really, I am. But you can't hold me responsible for that."

"I'm not holding you responsible for that." He held up the flash drive. "I'm holding you responsible for _this_."

She didn't say another word as she was escorted out.

By the time he made it home that evening, the truth had come out. A friend had taken Satters out for a commiseration drink, with the latter woman unaware that the former was dating Bryant. When the woman was too drunk to care, Satters swiped her security badge and returned to Rockwood intent upon stealing the plans for the PGV. Nathan really didn't care what her motivations were, as long as she went to jail. Manchester had stayed silent through the entire thing, allowing Nathan to handle the security situation.

Bryant, however, frustrated him. The man had been in the broom closet because he'd been going to meet his girlfriend. Satters had surprised him and smacked him over the head with the only weapon she could find.

Passing Erin's apartment, he let out a deep sigh. He'd given up a date with her for this drama? Shaking his head, he let himself into his apartment and closed out the world.

~oOo~

Erin walked into Atticus exactly an hour later and found Rosalee hunkered over a steaming cup of tea. Another teapot sat across from her, and she smiled as Erin sat down. "I ordered you the blueberry-vanilla."

"Thank you." Erin fixed her tea as she eyed Rosalee. The other woman looked pale and slightly weak. "Nathan bought me some of this tea about a week ago, and I'm still drinking it. I love it."

Rosalee gave her a wan smile.

"Hey, what's going on?" Erin's eyebrows lowered at her lackluster response. Normally, Rosalee would have jumped all over the mention of Nathan, but she let it go this time.

"I'm thinking about going back home." Rosalee's quiet words froze Erin in place.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Rose, you _know_ what he'll do to you."

"I may not have a choice," Rosalee ground out as she stirred her tea.

"Why not?" Erin shrugged. "You had the courage to walk away, and _no one_ is forcing you to go back there. Has he found the COPE house?" _If he has, I'll make sure to put the fear of Erin into him_, she thought angrily.

"No, that's not it." Rosalee's voice quivered. "I went to the doctor like you asked."

"And. . .?"

Rosalee looked up from her tea, and the despair in her eyes scared Erin. "I'm pregnant."

~TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** I got a couple of reviews on this commenting on how intense the emotions of the last few chapters were. Well, as promised, I'm issuing a fluff alert for this chapter. Enjoy! ~lg

~oOo~

Erin sat at Atticus with Rosalee until the tea shop closed. Neither woman really drank their tea, just used it as an excuse to look like customers. Rosalee knew the dangers of her situation, and, unfortunately, so did Erin. Hence the reason Erin emphatically urged her friend to stay away from Joe. But Rosalee made a good point. Every child deserved to know his father. To which Erin replied, "Yes, but your child should know him from the other side of clear plexiglass." At that point, Rosalee walked out, and Erin felt like a heel.

Returning to her apartment, she looked at her half-finished living room and flopped onto the couch. Any momentum she'd built toward the project had faded when Rosalee announced she would be having a baby. Erin shook her head. Did the other woman truly realize what that meant? What an amazing thing that was to be a mother? She thought so, but Rosalee's issues with her husband, including her continued love for him, baffled Erin.

Too tired to truly think, Erin went to her bathroom and drew a hot bath. She'd finally finished this room, and it looked great. The paint smell hung on to everything, and she knew it wouldn't fully go away until she'd finished the kitchen. But having this portion of her home complete gave her a place to escape the chaos. As she gathered her clothing, she took a moment to reflect.

She should have been on a date with Nathan. But, if he hadn't needed to work late, would she have been available to help Rosalee? Even if Rosalee got angry at her, Erin hoped she'd helped prevent the other woman from impulsively returning to Joe. Rosalee was a beautiful woman, and she had the strength and determination to raise that baby on her own. She didn't need a man who would browbeat her into virtual slavery. She needed a man like Nathan.

Erin's thoughts surprised her, and she shook her head as she slipped into the steaming hot water. The aqua color on the walls contrasted with the white ceiling and accessories, tying in nicely with the bedroom. Erin had even invested in new towel racks, and everything just sent her into a place of honest peace. She let the water close over her shoulders as she returned to her thoughts.

Every woman should have a man like Nathan in her life. But there was only one of him, and she didn't want to share. While she didn't know a lot about his past, she determined that she wouldn't mess this up. Her mistakes with Antonio and their incompatibility made her very aware of her shortcomings. Storming Nathan's home that one night should have resulted in either a night of passion or a night of violence. It should have sent him running the other way at the very least. Instead, he had the right words to say to calm her down and make her honestly examine her actions. And his rant as he tried to open his door with burned, bandaged hands still brought a smile to her face. He'd looked utterly charming with his hair slightly mussed, his expressions not quite so refined and guarded.

How did he feel about children? Erin didn't even wonder where that question came from as she closed her eyes. Rosalee's situation would eat at her if she didn't work through it tonight. That situation made Erin think about her own past and her own inabilities. Namely, the inability to have children. Her mind traveled back through the years to the day she endured the car accident that rendered her unable to conceive. She'd thought a lot about that while she and Antonio had been together, but it had never been a big issue since. In reality, it meant she didn't have to worry about things like birth control when she wanted to have a little fun. Funny how she hadn't thought about it in years, but it chose now to become a serious issue in her mind. She'd never seen Nathan as having children, but the thought of disappointing him stung. And it shouldn't have, since they hadn't yet had a first date.

_But you're falling for him, and you know it_, a little voice told her. Erin rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Somehow, her thoughts had moved from Rosalee's situation to Nathan's opinion on children. It wasn't exactly first date conversation material. _So, while we're on our first date, let's discuss children._ Yeah, that was the way to make him head for the door as quickly as possible.

Pulling herself from the bathtub, Erin let out the water and prepared for bed. She was tired from a long day at work, not to mention an emotional conversation with Rosalee. She felt horrible for alienating the other woman, but she could do nothing about it right now. Rosalee would make her own decisions, and Erin could do nothing about it.

Somehow, that didn't make her feel any better.

~oOo~

Erin rose the next morning determined to finish her living room. The half-painted walls would drive her insane, and she was tired of her thoughts. All through the night, she thought about Rosalee and dreamed of the accident that changed her ambitions from wife and mother to successful career woman. After all, if most men were like her father, they wouldn't want someone who couldn't give them a child. So she'd surrendered those aspirations and focused on the US Marshals.

Angry with herself for returning to her thoughts from the night before, Erin grabbed her paint clothes and tied her hair into a messy bun. She'd wash it later, even if just for a quick visit to Nathan's to find out if everything was okay, so she didn't even bother brushing it out. Right now, her frustration level could only be appeased by one thing: control. And, by finishing her living room, she'd be exerting control over her home.

Nathan knocked just as she started opening the paint can. Erin answered the door ready to glare at whoever had the audacity to disrupt her Saturday morning only to nearly melt at the apologetic, hang-dog expression he gave her.

"I'm sorry," he said, letting his head hang and his lower lip protrude.

Erin laughed, her tension immediately eased. "No need to apologize."

He straightened and grinned at her. "Yes, but a first date is somewhat important, and I messed ours up. Badly."

Deciding that chatting with Nathan beat painting her living room, Erin leaned against the doorjamb and simply enjoyed looking at him. "As long as there's a _third_ invitation to the _first_ date, I'll forgive you."

This time, he laughed. "I think we're the first couple I've ever known who have had this difficult of a time going on a first date." His grin faded, and he hesitated slightly. "I know it's not a night out or anything, but would you come over this evening for dinner?"

She blinked. Nathan wanted to cook? For her? "Uh, yeah!" She shook her head. "Sorry. You caught me by surprise."

"By wanting to have you over?" He narrowed his eyes. "Or by the fact that I can cook?"

This time, she grinned and looked a slight bit embarrassed. "Both?"

He laughed again, and she instantly relaxed. "I'll take that as a compliment, though you're not a horrible cook, either. And, like you said, I haven't killed anyone yet, so it must be good."

Erin chuckled, surprised at how easy it was to flirt with the guy. "You're stealing my line." Then, she shrugged. "But, then, I did steal it from someone else, so I guess turnabout's fair play."

He agreed with a nod. "Well, then, I will see you around seven." He eyed her living room. "Will that be enough time to finish?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Should be plenty of time to finish." As he turned to go, she reached out to touch his arm. "Nathan? Thanks."

"You're quite welcome."

Erin watched him leave, torn between the sight and the emotion. Every time she spoke with him, she found something else to like about him. She was sure he had little habits or some secret that would get on her nerves, but he also knew what to say to help her relax. Was it his job? Or just the man himself? She couldn't be sure.

In a much better mood, she turned back to her living room. She had a second coat of green to put on the walls, touch-up to do on the white ceiling, furniture to position, and a kitchen to figure out. But she also had dinner at Nathan's to motivate her.

Later that evening, Erin stood in front of her closet and glared. Dressing for a date shouldn't be a huge affair, but it was. The last time Nathan saw her out of her US Marshal or interior decorator persona, she'd been dressed "like a harlot," as he termed it. Tonight, she wanted to leave a classier impression with him while still relaxing. It shouldn't be this difficult.

Finally settling on a white maxi dress with purplish-blue flowers snaking upward from the hem, she dried her wet hair until it was straight down her back. A touch of light makeup accented her eyes, and she topped everything off with a short denim jacket. Faux jeweled sandals completed the look. Satisfied, Erin left her apartment and knocked on Nathan's door.

~oOo~

Julie sat on the thin mattress, her head in her hands. She shouldn't be here. She should be at home, enjoying a beer after the long day. Lately, those beers had become more and more frequent in the evenings, and part of her worried about her alcohol consumption. But it couldn't be as bad as when she was in college. She still didn't know how she graduated at the top of her class. Must have been her genius level IQ.

"Ms. Satters." The guard rounded the corner, a thumb tucked into his belt. He likely thought himself the epitome of attractive and irresistible, but Julie knew better. After all, she'd seen Nathan Gleeson.

"_Doctor_ Satters," she corrected as she stood. "Yes?"

"You have a visitor." The guard opened the door, and a slender man wearing a designer suit walked into the cell. Julie watched him, wondering what he, of all people, was doing down at county lock-up as she waited for transport upstate.

"Well, Dr. Satters, you've landed in quite the predicament." When she only nodded, he continued, "I can get you out of said predicament."

"How?"

He grinned, and it wasn't a pretty grin. "You work for me."

"But I thought. . . ."

He waved a hand. "That's not important at this moment. What is important is that I have what you need: freedom."

"And how do you intend to deal with those charges?"

"This is where you trust me." He eyed her. "Is it a tempting enough offer? Or should I let you sit here for another few nights?"

Julie stared at him, knowing her answer but wanting to really think this through. If she joined forces with this man, her life would change. Money. Power. Freedom. Responsibility. Fear. And, maybe, revenge. All these words, and more, flowed through her head as she quickly worked out the ramifications. "Fine. But, if I say yes, I want you to make sure this goes away," she said as she motioned to the cell around her.

"Done." He smiled at her. "Welcome to the fold, my dear." He turned to leave.

"Mr. . . ?"

"Call me Charles."

Julie nodded. "When will I get out?"

He simply smiled. "As soon as I get out of here. And take a few days to get your feet back under you. I'll see you on Monday."

As her new employer walked out, Julie Satters grinned. Maybe, one day soon, she'd have the right combination of money and power to make Nathan Gleeson look her way. If not, there were plenty of other men in the world. She just had to find them.

~oOo~

Nathan stared a moment when he opened the door. Erin smiled awkwardly and actually flushed. He wished he could take the embarrassment from her but wouldn't change a thing about the way she'd dressed. The floor-length white dress with forget-me-nots climbing up the front picked up her violet eyes and made sure she was unforgettable. The denim jacket lent a casual feel to her clothing, and her sparkly sandals made him grin. "Come in."

"Thank you." She stepped inside, looked around like she typically did, and took a deep breath. "It smells wonderful."

"I'm glad you like it." He returned to the kitchen, tossing the towel he'd used to dry his hands over his shoulder as he went. "My mum used to make this, and I stole her recipe when I left home."

Erin followed him into the kitchen and peeked into the pot simmering on the stove. "What is it?"

"It's called scouse." Nathan grabbed the wooden spoon and stirred the pot, making sure none of the food was adhered to the bottom of the pan. "Lamb, stewing meat, potatoes, carrots, and onions with various spices. I've got fresh bread and red wine to go along with it."

She looked up from the pot, her smile lighting her face, and Nathan had all he could do to keep from kissing her on the spot. She seemed to read his thoughts and stepped back ever so slightly. "I'm glad I came over, then."

He pulled soup bowls from the cabinet while she wandered his living area. He watched, trying to decide which version of this woman he liked more. He was pretty sure he wanted to keep the aggressive version of her under wraps until they were more committed to this relationship, and he rather liked her relaxed, painter persona. But this soft, feminine, slightly shy version appealed on so many levels.

Nathan served the scouse and poured two glasses of wine while watching Erin roam his home. She stopped to stare at _Solitude_ once again, and he wondered if he should find her something similar for her home. The reddish colors would clash with the green of her living room, but it would probably wind up being a striking contrast. Just like the woman herself.

"You're hopeless, old friend," he muttered to himself. If Erin heard him, she didn't give any indication. Instead, she flushed again when he seated her at the table and laughed with him over the happenings of the day. By the time she left for the evening, Nathan knew he was headed for trouble if he didn't pull away from her. Problem was, he didn't want to pull away. He wanted to find out if knowing the real Erin Mitchell was worth the trouble it would cause.

~TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Erin slept late the next morning and woke still smiling. Last night, after dinner, she and Nathan had settled on his couch while they shared another glass of wine and chatted. The conversation turned to books, something about which Erin admitted to knowing very little, and he left her long enough to grab an old, thick volume from his bedroom. She glimpsed a dark brown sleigh bed, slate blue coverings, and elegant furniture on the walls. Of course his inner sanctum would have the same elegance the rest of the condo possessed.

Shaking her head, Erin watched him settle back on the couch. Somehow, Nathan inspired such phrases as "inner sanctum" and "elegance," something she seriously lacked in her life. She saw her bedroom as her retreat, but Nathan's couldn't be described that way.

Then, he started reading. Somehow, Erin wound up with her chin propped on his shoulder, listening as his usually direct voice softened and warmed while he read. His accent changed, became more formal, and she had the sudden suspicion that this man had more beneath the surface than even she realized. By the time she left his home, she realized she had crossed a line. Nathan was no longer just her neighbor. He was. . . . She couldn't find the right word, but "boyfriend" seemed too cliché for someone like him.

Finally pushing out of bed, Erin turned and immediately straightened the covers. She positioned the pillows and smiled. Her idea had panned out exactly as she'd hoped. Walking barefoot into her living room, she ignored the mismatched furniture and looked around. While still bare, the green walls didn't seem so impersonal anymore. The white ceiling flowed through the house, and she wondered if she should buy some curtains for the window. Her budget had just enough left in it to finish off the kitchen, and she faced that troublesome area with very little inspiration. The only spot of color in there came from the beautiful tea set Nathan had given her.

Taking her time with brewing her morning cup of tea and eating cereal from a plastic bowl, Erin enjoyed how different her home felt. She'd tried to get into the habit of putting things away rather than letting them pile up, and it made a huge impact on how she felt. She no longer wanted to run away to escape the madness. Instead, she lingered, her mind whirling from one topic to the next as she tried to figure out what to do for that day. Spending time in the kitchen appealed, and she decided she'd rather cook or bake than paint. She'd leave painting for the next weekend, knowing that time would give her the right idea for fixing up the room.

As she dressed, Erin thought about dinner last night and grinned. She returned to the living room and found her laptop, something she kept at home only for internet access and those nights when she brought her work home with her. Today, it contained many secrets. She'd enjoyed Nathan's Liverpudlian dinner, and she wondered what other treats he might know. As she scrolled through a list, one stood out to her: sticky toffee pudding. With only a few keystrokes, she found a recipe worth the trip to the grocery store.

Three hours later, Erin returned with the ingredients for sticky toffee pudding, plus a large mirror for her living room wall and some new dishes. She'd followed the hint Nathan gave her when he bought the tea set and chose blue and white as her kitchen colors. Carrying everything inside, she set the mirror next to the couch and started unpacking the dishes.

She'd been surprised to learn that sticky toffee pudding wasn't "pudding" like Americans thought of it. It was a very moist sponge cake with a toffee sauce that went on top of it and was served next to vanilla ice cream. She could almost taste the toffee already and set about preparing the dish. As she worked, she thought about her life and smiled. Things were looking up for the first time in a while. In spite of Antonio's death, Erin suddenly felt better than she had in a very long time. And she wanted to share the happiness with someone.

That desire sent her scrambling for her shoes and on a quick walk to Nathan's door. Hoping he was home and available, she knocked and waited. Last night, when she arrived, he'd spent what seemed to be an incredibly long few moments staring at her. It made the effort of getting dressed up worth it. She only hoped it would be worth it today.

Nathan answered before she'd fully formed the words. His smile caused his eyes to sparkle, and he used one finger to mark his place in the book he'd been reading. "Erin."

"Sorry to interrupt," she said with a quick motion toward the book. "But I was. . . Well, I thought. . . ."

He laughed, though she could tell it wasn't at her. "Just say it."

"After dinner last night, I was doing some exploring online." She shrugged, feeling her face heat. "And I found this recipe that I thought I'd try. Only, now, I'm too scared to try it myself." There. She'd said it, and now she just needed to wait for his response.

He grinned. "Give me a few moments, and I'll be over."

"You're sure?"

"Yes." He reached out and touched her elbow. "Erin, this relationship—if that's what we have—is a give and take. You shouldn't feel embarrassed over something like this."

"I know." She shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her head. "Just. . .um. . .come on in when you're ready." Before he could answer, she escaped back to her home.

Inside her kitchen, Erin prepared tea and grinned at herself. _You're a piece of work,_ she thought. _You're not innocent by any stretch of the imagination, and yet you act like you've never seen a guy, much less been with one._ But that was the effect Nathan had on her. Maybe that's why she wanted everything to work out with him in the end.

He arrived before the tea had finished brewing and stepped inside after a quick knock. A smile lit his face immediately, and he walked into the living room. "It looks great."

"Thank you." Erin stepped to his side. "I'm still buying stuff for the walls, and I want to put up some crown molding. But I'm pleased with the results."

He pointed. "And a new couch?"

She lightly smacked his arm. "I like my couch!"

Nathan laughed.

She turned back to the kitchen. "So, I was trying to decide what I want to do in the kitchen and decided to cook instead. I just hope you like it."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." He grinned. "If it's anything like your chicken salad, you have no cause to be worried."

She bit her lip as she served the ice cream next to the sponge cake. Adding the warm toffee sauce to the cake, she set the plate in front of him and watched his reaction.

Nathan stared, first at the plate and then at her. "You made sticky toffee pudding?"

Erin nodded. "I know it's probably not quite right, but. . . ."

Rather than answering her, he took a bite. And simply chewed for a moment. She bit her lip, prepared for him to react violently. Instead, he shook his head. "Wow! I haven't tasted this in a _long_ time. This is fantastic!"

"You're sure it's good and not that it's just been a long time since you've had it?" She hated feeling so on edge, and she resolved to work on that trait that cropped up from her school days.

"Trust me." He set down his fork. "This was my favorite dessert when I was a boy. I didn't get it often enough, but, every time I visited the pub where my mum worked, the owner gave me a serving. This is. . .almost identical to it."

Erin let out a soft sigh of relief and fixed herself a plate. "I'm glad."

When she set her plate on the counter, Nathan reached out and grabbed her hand. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "You'll probably think me foolish and somewhat childish, but I can't help feeling a little off balance next to you. It's been years since I've felt this way, and that's not like me. I usually know exactly what to say or how to react."

He leaned forward ever so slightly, invading her space. "You think you're the only one feeling that?" When she glanced at him, he grinned. "I have only met one other woman like you, and she was nowhere near what you are to me. You are the most intriguing woman I've ever met. And the most beautiful."

Erin stared into his blue eyes, trying her hardest to wrap her brain around what he'd just said. He thought her beautiful? That, alone, didn't really impress her because other men had told her she was beautiful, usually when they wanted to get into her bed. But, with Nathan, it was different. He'd never indicated that he wanted to sleep with her, though she knew that had to be somewhere under his normally contained exterior. Just the idea that he could hold back the physical aspect of their relationship in favor of knowing her amazed her, intrigued her, and made the idea of physical intimacy with him even more exciting.

Nathan's eyes dropped to her lips, and Erin suddenly realized that she'd be a goner if he ever decided to take things to the next level. Today, with the bright sunshine streaming in through the windows, the moment seemed perfect. He lowered his head, and she leaned forward to meet his kiss.

He tasted of toffee and vanilla with a hint of the tea he'd been drinking. Erin wanted to melt into the kiss and let him carry her off to some distant place for the rest of the day. Instead, he pulled back a few moments later, smiling at her as she absorbed the implications of what had just happened. "Well," he said softly, "I should probably go before I ruin this amazing moment."

Her smile widened. "Why leave?" She shrugged. "I have plenty of time to sit and visit."

He raised an eyebrow. "So long as visiting is all you have in mind." At her surprised look, he stepped back and smiled. "Erin, love, you've been hurt in recent weeks. You've lost a good friend, not to mention the chaos in your family life. I would love nothing more than to cart you into that bedroom and show you _exactly_ what you are to me, but you're not ready for that. When you are, we will discuss that step. But, for now, you know where my thoughts are headed."

"I guess I do," she said, still relearning how to breathe after his kiss. As he carried his tea and plate into her living room, Erin joined him on the opposite end of the couch. She'd never thought it possible, but having a man respect her enough to refuse the physical intimacy she offered said a lot about his character. She hoped he didn't discover that she wasn't the right person for him because, in the last few moments, she fell head over heels in love with Nathan Gleeson.

~oOo~

Tuesday evening, Erin went again to the COPE house. She'd managed to start friendships with several of the women there, but Rosalee stayed on her mind. They hadn't spoken since Erin's outburst at Atticus, and Erin needed to know her friend would be okay. All through the class, she watched as Rosalee kept up as best as she could. With the suspicions of her friend's pregnancy confirmed, she gave alternate instructions for those who had problems with the tougher exercises.

After the class, Rosalee approached her and dropped onto the floor next to her. "I'm sorry."

Erin turned in surprise. "Me, too." When Rosalee glanced sharply at her, Erin shrugged. "You know how I feel, but he's your husband. And I shouldn't have said that to your face." _Even if it is true_, she added silently. Women like Rosalee confounded her. The last time a man hit her, Erin had broken his nose and left arm. Of course, he'd been an escaped convict she'd been taking back to prison, but it didn't matter. No man ever hit Erin Mitchell and walked away unscathed.

Now, however, she wanted to be supportive of her friend. If being respectful of Joe's position in Rosalee's life kept her away from him, Erin determined to do just that. If the man ever approached her, she'd give him what-for, but she refused to further alienate her friend.

Rosalee let out a deep breath. "I know how you feel, and I know what your opinion on this will be." She shook her head. "But I'm going home tomorrow."

Erin pressed her lips together to prevent the inevitable outburst. She wanted to scream, to yell, to rant against Joe and every other man like him. Instead, she looked at Rosalee. "You're sure that's what you want to do?"

"Maybe, with the baby, he'll be better." Rosalee shrugged. "Maybe not. But he's my husband and the father of my child. And every child should know their father, no matter what kind of man he is. Besides, I love him."

Erin narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out her friend's thought process. "You know how crazy that sounds, don't you?" When Rosalee looked up sharply, Erin decided to be blunt. Again. "Rose, I'm a US Marshal. I see stuff like this every day, and I know how it ends. I don't want it to end badly for you."

"I know." Rosalee grinned. "I mean, I know how you feel, not that you're. . . A US Marshal? Really?"

Erin nodded, reminded of how little her friends knew about her. "Just. . .call me if you need _anything_. And the minute he hits you, get out of there. Because, if you don't, he could hurt the baby." Saying those words cost her more than she cared to admit. Releasing her friend to make a stupid mistake meant releasing her friend to possibly destroy the greatest gift she'd ever received.

Leaving the COPE house, Erin drove home in a rage. As soon as the car door closed behind her, she hit the steering wheel. "What is she _thinking_? Of all the _stupid,_ ignorant, _irresponsible_, idiotic things to do! Returning to the man who beat her! I can't believe this! I thought she'd think things through and realize what she's doing. But, no! Instead, she goes back to the. . . ." She couldn't think of a word dirty enough to describe Joe.

Arriving home before she'd completely resolved the issue in her mind, Erin passed her apartment and knocked on Nathan's door. She resolved to be calm about the whole thing but nearly burst into tears when he opened the door. Pulling her into his apartment, he held her shoulders and stared into her eyes. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing." She shrugged, working to hang on to her emotions and not bombard him like she had the night of Antonio's death. "Just. . .Rosalee's going back to her husband."

Nathan jerked suddenly. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah." Erin let out a deep sigh, glad she'd told him that she volunteered at the COPE house. She hadn't said anything specific about Rosalee beyond that she was in a bad relationship, but it was enough for Nathan to read between the lines. "I tried to get her to stay away, especially since she's pregnant, but she wouldn't listen! Does she even _know_ what a gift she has? I mean, there are plenty of women, myself included, who want what she's got with that baby and just can't because of injury or sickness. And here she wants to throw it all away by returning to a man who beats the crap out of her and treats her like she's his slave, not his wife! I tried to talk to her, but the one time I was able to be blunt, she just walked out on me." As she said the words, she could imagine Nathan thinking, _Imagine that._

"And, if that wasn't enough, I've got work breathing down my neck because of a conflict of interest." She shook her head, still thankful for his arms on her shoulders. "My dad's getting married, and it's creating havoc at work, and I don't know what to do about it."

"Wait." Nathan frowned, clearly trying his hardest to follow the conversation. "What does your father's relationship with his fiance have to do with work?"

"I'm a US Marshal, Nathan." Erin figured she'd already spilled the beans to Rosalee. She might as well spill them to her boyfriend as well. "And Elizabeth's a federal judge. That alone creates a conflict. Then, on top of that, I have a friend making the single _stupidest_ mistake of her life. Does she even know what a gift it is to be pregnant? That she can't take that for granted! And, yet, she's going back to him. . . ." She lost the ability to put things into words.

Rather than pulling away, Nathan tilted her chin so that she looked him in the eye. "Erin." When she froze, he smiled. "Let it out. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

With his permission, she did just that. She walked away from him and allowed the anger to flow off of her. She ranted about Rosalee, about Joe, about her father, about Elizabeth, about work, and about Antonio. As she released the stress, she felt the tears building behind her eyes. Trying not to dump everything on him, she said a quick "Thank you" and headed for the door. After showing up at his house in a rage a _second_ time, she didn't think he'd want to see her cry.

Nathan had other ideas. He grabbed her arms and simply pulled her into a strong hug. Erin leaned her head on his shoulder and realized that he wasn't kicking her out of his home. Instead, he made sure she wouldn't do something stupid. And that she wouldn't be alone. That meant more than almost anything to her. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she buried her face in his shoulder and released the pent-up emotions she'd kept under wraps for days.

When the storm finally passed, Erin stayed in Nathan's arms as she regained control of her emotions. She rarely lost it so eloquently, and she decided that she liked having Nathan around. He was good for her, in spite of the struggle she had with letting others see her inner feelings. Maybe she'd done the right thing in coming here after all.

Lifting her head, she shrugged. "Sorry about showing up in a rage and dumping it all on you."

He shook his head. "Don't ever apologize. I'm happy to be here."

Erin allowed Nathan to hold her for a long time afterward. When she finally went home, she resolved to make sure _nothing_ destroyed her relationship with him. As a storm brewed outside, she settled into her couch to think. Being in love with a man was one thing. Committing to him was a different story. Did she truly want to commit to Nathan? Could she afford not to?

Thoroughly exhausted, Erin stretched out on the couch to consider the questions. She fell asleep before she found any answers.

~TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Erin was a US Marshal.

Nathan cursed quietly after he'd closed the door behind her. She'd been so upset that she hadn't noticed his involuntary tensing when she told him what she did for a living. After all, she hunted down and extradited men like him back to their countries and states to stand trial.

"You've really done it now, old friend," he said to the air. And he agreed. Why had he decided to fall in love with a US Marshal, of all people? He couldn't figure it out but knew that this changed everything.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was leave. It would not only destroy his life and the identity he'd built, but it would also destroy Erin. She'd lost so much in the last few weeks, between Antonio's death and Rosalee's decision to return to her husband. That didn't even begin to touch the confusion she had to be feeling about her father's decision to remarry after her mother's death.

But what did it mean for Nathan? He walked to the window and looked out, the fading sun already casting deep shadows on the world outside. He felt as if he'd come into the sunshine and then plunged back into cold darkness. Of course, his emotions at the moment had a lot to do with that. Having Erin show up close to tears but doing everything in her power to stay contained and poised had affected him deeply. He'd learned from her last outburst that she usually kept everything bottled up until one minor incident sent her off the deep end. He didn't want that minor incident to be a mouthy criminal she was transporting.

What would she think if he came clean with her? Would she walk out of the door and out of his life? Would she arrest him? Would she hit him and then arrest him? All these questions floated through his head, though he knew answering them was a moot point. He'd already decided to tell her everything he'd done in the past. Nothing she did would change that because, when it all came down to the wire, Nathan loved her and refused to lie to her any longer. Of course, the timing and location of his confession needed to be perfect, but the decision was made.

As he prepared for bed, Nathan let his mind go through all the events that had led him to this place. As a boy in Liverpool, he'd never dreamed he'd be much more than a misfit, a child without a father. Then, through a fortuitous course of events, he'd been sponsored to university, freeing him to explore his world. Earning his degree led him to his job for the royal family. And his performance there led him to head the security detail for Victoria.

For five years, Nathan protected the Princess of Wales with his life. Then, one day, Templeton approached him. The plot to kill Victoria seemed sound at the time, and Templeton was ready to take the blame for it. Even then, Nathan had questioned his orders. Of course, he hadn't said anything to Templeton, but he could still recall that one defining moment. _Can I count on you, Mr. Nathan?_ The question still haunted him. He should have said no, should have followed his gut instinct. When a man as good as Gerard died, it was an indication that something, somewhere, had gone wrong.

But Templeton had prevailed, and Nathan wound up unconscious under the heavy lift that allowed the princess to escape. When he'd come to, his head had pounded, and he'd nearly vomited from the pain. Knowing that an arrest and execution awaited him in England, he crawled out from under the lift and hid until the museum had been cleared of all his men. Then, he painfully crawled out from his hiding place and somehow managed to make it to a hospital. He still wasn't sure how he'd marshaled enough strength to perform such a feat. Even the doctors had been amazed. But survival instinct had triumped.

After recovering, Nathan set up his new identity, moved to Dallas, and disappeared. He knew that Erin's presence in his life threatened his freedom, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Sometimes, one made a stupid decision all for the sake of the person he or she loved. And he was certain that his latest decision was a stupid one.

Still, he understood Victoria in a strange way. She'd managed to find the same thing that Nathan shared with Erin. She'd discovered that duty and honor sometimes needed to be ignored for the sake of the heart. And he'd resented her for it. He hadn't understood and thought she was betraying her people. He now realized that she'd made the right decision.

_And how does this apply?_ he asked himself as he lay down for the night. Victoria had survived and gone on to marry her personal prince, the paramedic named Tony. Nathan had followed the royal family from a distance, and he knew that Tony had settled into life with Victoria with various struggles. But his heart to help others made him a favorite of the British people.

What of Nathan's plans for the future? At least Erin could say he was honest with her for once in his life. But, when he told her the truth, he'd probably be hurting her as deeply as Antonio's death had. If not more so. Could he really do that to her? Could he really ignore the truth and build a life with her only to have her discover that he had never been Nathan Gleeson? Neither of those options appealed, but he discovered he could handle Erin walking out of his life _now_ easier than he could if they continued this relationship and married.

As the rain started falling outside, Nathan frowned at the window. Marriage? Is that what he really wanted with Erin? He'd never had so many questions in his life, and he needed to get a few of them answered before he took any more steps. Up until now, he'd seen himself as a loner, as the man on the outside looking into what he thought was a happy family. Now, he had a chance to have that happiness. He'd experienced it when Erin came over and visited. Even the times when he'd been injured or she'd been crying had appealed to him. It meant someone else mattered in his life and needed him around.

Angry with himself for spending so much time chasing his thoughts in circles, Nathan rolled away from the window, pulled the covers over his shoulders, and forced himself to sleep.

Erin's scream woke him three hours later.

~oOo~

Erin woke to the sound of shattering glass and a very large piece of ice landing in her lap. The sudden temperature drop, not to mention the dousing she received from rain mixed with hail, sent her scrambling off of the couch as she screamed. She'd dreamed that Rosalee's husband came after her, and the hail bomb landing in her lap, not to mention falling glass and smaller bits of hail, blended with her dream of the door being shattered by a gun. It broke past the police training she'd received, and she reacted like a normal woman.

Standing back in the middle of her living room, looking down at her wet and bloody workout clothes, Erin laughed. She stared at the broken window, the rain pouring into the room as the wind blew it, and she knew that her day had officially started. It would take hours to get someone out to fix the window. In the meantime, she needed to find a way to stop the rain and hail from invading her home any further. As it was, the couch was toast.

Someone knocked on her door, and Erin whirled as she realized her scream likely woke the neighbors. And Nathan. Groaning at interrupting him yet again with her personal drama, she walked to the door and opened it.

Nathan stood at her door, wearing blue plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. His hair stood on end, and he was barefoot. His eyes widened as he looked at her. "What in _blazes _happened?" Rather than waiting for her to invite him in, he pushed into the room and took her shoulders in hand, turning her to face him as he looked over her. He quickly assessed the damage to her condo and then returned to examining her face and hair. As he brushed a light hand over her forehead, she felt the sting of a cut and realized she must have blood that had run down her face and mingled with the rain water. _That would explain the blood on my clothes,_ she thought.

"I'm fine." Erin tried to grin in order to ease the tension from his face. He was really worried about her, and she felt awful for scaring him like that. "Really, Nathan." She reached up and grabbed his wrists, trying to infuse some level of confidence into her grip.

He met her eyes. "Sorry for not believing you, but I walk through the door to find you bleeding and covered in glass. That window should bloody well have held up against the hail!"

"Not this one." Erin grinned at him. "It was the size of a baseball, maybe a bit larger."

His eyes widened. "Seriously?"

She walked back to the window and picked up the ice. It had melted somewhat, but it was still close to the size of a baseball. "I'm tempted to put it into my freezer just for proof when I tell Jerald and the guys at work what happened."

"I would." He glanced around once more and let out a sigh. "Well, it's safe to say that your couch is destroyed."

"As is the wall underneath the window and the paint."

He gave her a sharp look. "You just scared ten years off of my life by screaming and then answering your door covered in blood, and your concern is for the _paint_?"

"What can I say?" She shrugged, secretly pleased with his reaction. "I just finished painting that room. I'm just glad it wasn't the new mirror that got destroyed."

He rolled his eyes.

In the bathroom, Nathan pointed to the toilet, and Erin sat on the closed toilet seat without a fuss. She gave him directions to her first aid kit and submitted to his ministrations. She normally would have liked to be the one patching herself up, but she wouldn't be able to see all the glass in her hair. Besides, this disheveled, casual version of Nathan appealed. She knew he focused on the cuts on her face, but she enjoyed having him hover over her anyway.

As he worked, he muttered. Erin tried to follow everything she said, but she got lost between "bloody" and "wazzocks." Still, the meaning came through. After cleaning the glass from her face, he applied antiseptic cream and small band aids to the deeper cuts on her face. Then, he began lightly brushing his fingers through her hair, trying to remove the glass. Part of her wanted to lean into his hand, but she knew that his skin was still healing from his own injuries. Pushing to her feet, she smiled. "I can run a comb through it and get the glass out."

He narrowed his eyes, seeming to question her, and Erin realized just how close they stood to one another. The location didn't help matters, and she let out a deep breath. Nathan had refused to let their relationship get physical, but the sheer nearness and raw emotion she saw in his eyes made her want to ignore his boundaries. When he swallowed, she understood that he felt the same thing. Rather than following through on her initial impulse, Erin turned and began gathering up the gauze he'd used to patch up her face. The action broke the spell, and he left her to recover alone.

Staring into the mirror as she ran a fine toothed comb through her hair to remove the glass, Erin sighed. Nathan was everything she'd wanted in a man. But his British sensibilities only made him more appealing. She'd never had a man set boundaries on their relationship before, and it made the desires even stronger. Had he not left the bathroom, she knew she'd be headed for her bed, heedless of the mess in her living room while she and Nathan satisfied themselves with one another.

This kind of relationship was different. Erin grabbed another set of workout clothes from her bedroom and ducked back into her bathroom to change. She couldn't stay in this house tonight, and she wasn't sure she'd rest much in a hotel. But she needed to get out of wet clothes, no matter what she decided to do. Thankful that she owned the condo rather than rented it, she quickly changed while thinking about the man in the other room.

Had Nathan been anyone else, he would have taken advantage of what she offered. She knew that. And she knew that she needed someone like him in her life. He made her feel young and innocent again. And he knew when to say no.

Shaking her head, she walked out of her bedroom to find Nathan kneeling on her ruined couch, completely soaked as he tried to use a plastic painting cloth to cover the window. Erin rushed for the tape he'd dropped and helped seal the window. Stepping back to look at their handiwork, they glanced at one another. And promptly laughed.

"Well, don't we make quite the pair?" he asked as he shook his head. "Are you certain you're okay?"

"I'm fine." She would have reached out and touched his arm, but he was even more soaked than she'd been. "My couch, however, isn't."

Nathan eyed the painter's tape they'd used. "And your living room won't be if I don't get some proper tape up there."

"If _you_ don't?" Erin frowned. "This is my home. I can take care of it."

"I know." He wasn't upset by her assertion. "I also know you have a stressful day ahead of you tomorrow and thought I could take care of it for you."

Erin stared at him. What had she done to deserve someone like him? "Wow." She shook her head. "Okay. If you insist."

"I insist." He pointed to the door. "Now, pack up while I go dress. You can stay at my place while I get this taken care of. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to get your couch out of here until tomorrow."

Erin headed for her bedroom, already trying to figure out which suit she would wear to work. Now that the adrenaline had faded, she felt the exhaustion working on her. As she packed her suitcase, she shook her head. Staying at Nathan's had never been about damage to her home that made it unlivable. She just couldn't bring herself to tell him no.

~oOo~

As he waited for Erin to appear at his door, Nathan shook his head. "You're a wazzock," he said again. He'd been saying it since he pretty much ordered Erin to come stay at his place while he fixed her window. Her assertion that she could fix it herself amused him simply because he knew it was true. A woman like Erin didn't need him to rush in and fix every little problem in her life. Which made rushing in to fix those little problems even more appealing. It showed her that someone out there cared enough about her to help her.

Erin appeared as he finished combing his hair. He knew he'd likely take the day off to work on her home, the advantage to still having available vacation time. Manchester wouldn't be thrilled, but he'd understand given the situation. Letting her inside, Nathan watched Erin out the corner of his eye as she set her small bag on his couch and looked a little lost. He wished he could make this easier for her, but he knew he had to get out of here. That moment in the bathroom had been rather intense, and he'd been grateful for nature's cold shower.

After Erin assured him that she'd be fine, Nathan left and headed to Wal-Mart. He grabbed duct tape, plastic, and extra towels. By the time he got back to Erin's apartment, the rain had loosened the painter's tape, allowing more water into her home. He quickly got to work sealing the broken window while making a list of things that needed to be done the next day. Erin would need to make the phone calls, but he knew he'd be able to help. He also knew she'd been looking for a reason to get new furniture for the living room. This just gave her the right reason.

With the window as sealed as it was going to get, Nathan wearily made his way to his own apartment. He let himself in the door quietly, not wanting to startle Erin in an unfamiliar environment. He was totally unprepared for what he saw.

Sometime during his absence, Erin had discovered the blue and brown throw he kept over the foot of his bed. She'd carried it and a book from his bookshelf to the couch and stretched out to read. Instead, she fell asleep. Her blond hair flared over the arm of his couch, contrasting sharply with the brown leather, and her face lost all vestiges of stress, grief, or anger. Nathan walked over to her, not wanting to wake her but knowing she'd be embarrassed the next morning if he didn't. He reached out to brush her hair from her cheek, hoping it would gently wake her. When she rolled onto her side, he instead rescued his book and smiled.

"You're an amazing woman, Erin Mitchell," he said softly. She didn't stir. Nathan let out a sigh. "Well, your window is done, and you'll have a mess to clean up tomorrow. But I think your condo will survive. Question is, will I survive?" _Will my heart survive?_ He asked silently. He couldn't be sure, but he knew he wanted to find out.

Leaving Erin to sleep, Nathan took himself to bed and fell asleep knowing that Erin was safe for the evening. They'd deal with the awkwardness in the morning and figure out how to handle the changes in their relationship. But, for now, he decided to hope for the best with this surprising, wonderful woman he'd discovered.

~TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Nathan's alarm woke Erin thirty minutes before her own alarm sounded. Last night, or rather, early this morning, she'd tried to stay awake until he returned from Wal-Mart. But her sudden spike in adrenaline, not to mention the emotions of earlier in the evening, had exhausted her. She'd tried reading the book Nathan had read to her, but she fell asleep.

Now, however, as she listened to him quietly step into his shower, she wondered exactly how to get out of this mess. Last night, it had seemed like a good idea to stretch out on his couch and relax. This morning, it seemed a little. . .over the top. But he'd wanted to make sure her window was covered, and she'd gladly allowed him. The stress of the repairs, on top of everything, was something she did _not_ need. Unfortunately, she'd have to deal with it. And it likely wouldn't be a pretty repair bill.

"Well, you were thinking about buying a new couch," she muttered as she pushed off the couch and folded the blanket. Then, after running a quick brush through her hair, she decided to dress at her place rather than here. It would also give her a chance to survey the damage.

Nathan appeared before she could escape, looking incredible in black slacks and a white button-down shirt open at the neck. He smiled at her. "Good morning."

"Morning." Erin scowled at his back. He looked great, and she was rumpled and tired. Not to mention feeling very awkward. She motioned toward the couch. "I'm sorry for invading your home. Again."

He spared her a glance. "Share morning tea with me, and we'll call it even."

"Are you serious?" she blurted. The only time a man offered to cook for her was when they slept together, and it was usually a "Thank you for letting me use your body" breakfast. If she even got that. This was more of an "I'm glad you're here" meal.

Nathan frowned at her. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just. . . ." Erin let her voice trail off as she shrugged with one shoulder. How did she explain her surprise to him? How did she tell him that Antonio was the last man to really care about her for more than what she could do for him?

Nathan set down the tea he'd been packing into a tea ball and rounded the corner. He stepped close enough to invade her space but didn't touch her. "I like you, Erin. Not just what you can offer me. _All_ of you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your fire when you're irritated. Your willingness to just work and not worry about the results. How you care about Rosalee. _Everything_. Because of that, I want to spend as much time with you as possible. Sounds sappy, I know. But it's true."

She stared into his blue eyes, trying to breathe. How did she respond to that? Anything she said would sound trite or flippant. _Well, thanks for that, Nathan. Now I gotta go fix my house._ Somehow, that didn't work well. Not when he'd been so open with her about how he felt. Letting out a deep breath, she said, "You know how to cut to the chase, don't you?"

His dry grin returned. "I try."

Nodding, she smiled. "Tea sounds wonderful."

They shared a quiet breakfast, neither one eager to interrupt the peace. Erin ate while trying to figure out where to go next. She'd never shared this level of comfort with anyone and knew that her relationship with Nathan had changed. They may have only had one official date, but they'd spent enough time together to know that they had something. After breakfast, he walked her home and surveyed the damage. His patch job had held, but the rain coming into the window before then had completely destroyed the couch and the wall beneath it. Not to mention probable water damage _inside_ the wall.

Erin sighed. "And another home improvement project begins."

Nathan glanced at her, clearly reading the irritation in her voice. "You have to be at work this morning."

"Yes." She rubbed her face. "I can probably be late given the circumstances. But. . . ." She ran a hand through her hair, her frustration level rising as she faced the problem.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Let me help you." When she looked at him, he shrugged. "I can take the day. If you'll allow me, I'll let in the repairmen and such."

Erin stared. It was decision time. Did she trust Nathan or not? He waited patiently for her answer, and she nodded. "Okay. It'll make my life a lot easier. Plus, after seeing your place, I trust your judgment."

He smiled. "Good. And you have more of this green paint left?"

"About half a gallon. It should be enough to fix this wall." She walked into her bedroom and returned with a spare key. "I'll make some calls and have them knock on your door."

"Sounds good." He touched her shoulder. "Please don't worry today."

"I'll try." She smiled. "And thank you. So much."

"Trust me, Erin. It's never a problem." He left her to get dressed then, leaving her smiling at her ruined window and wall like a teenager.

~oOo~

By Friday morning, the window had been replaced, and the water damage inside the wall had been repaired. Nathan said the construction crew would return later that afternoon to finish the drywall and texturing, leaving the painting for the two of them the next day. Erin grinned as she thought about the two of them trying to paint that tiny wall. It would be fun, and she wondered if she wanted to go through that torture. After all, Nathan would leave her alone at the end of the day. It surprised her how badly she wanted to spend time with him and get to know him without the pressure of a sexual relationship. She'd never been one to wait before, but it appealed now. Nathan wasn't just a distraction for her. He was firm, steady, and not going anywhere.

Jerald had been understanding about her home situation the other day. He'd shaken his head and commented that she just couldn't seem to catch a break in her life. Erin had to agree. But, with Nathan around, she coped better than she'd thought she would. He had a way of putting things into perspective for her, and that helped tremendously. Now, with the lunch hour approaching, Erin finished the stack of paperwork on her desk. She'd volunteered to help other agents who had covered for her get caught up on their paperwork, and most of the reports simply required their signature to be complete. Once she finished the paperwork, she would take her lunch break and go couch shopping. It was her reward for helping out in the office.

Her cell phone rang as she printed the final report. She snatched it up. "Mitchell."

"It's Chloe." The breathless voice of the COPE house director stilled all motion. "I need you to get to the hospital. _Now_!"

"What happened?" Erin's mind immediately ran the gamut of options. Had an abusive husband or boyfriend found the COPE house and taken out his anger on all the women there? Were there a group of them? A drug overdose? A lost child? A suicide attempt?

"It's Rosalee."

That was all Chloe needed to say. Erin pushed back from her desk. "Which hospital?"

"Medical City."

"I'm on my way." Erin's expression must have warned people to leave her alone.

In her car, she turned on her emergency flashers and pushed the speed limits as much as she dared to get to the hospital. Inside, she went directly to the emergency room, encountering Chloe pacing outside the doors. The woman turned, her calm facade broken by angry, grief-filled eyes.

Erin rushed over to her. "What happened?"

"Joe happened." Chloe shook her head. "I stopped by to visit her today. Just to make sure she was doing okay. Instead, I found the door standing wide open. Rosalee was on the floor, bleeding badly."

Erin's heart sank with that news. She felt her stomach churn and knew she'd likely puke if she didn't get herself under control. But this situation hit a little too close to home considering Erin's own thoughts concerning Rosalee's baby. She found her voice and faced Chloe. "The baby?"

Chloe shrugged, her eyes showing the same horrified grief. "They don't know right now."

~oOo~

"Mr. Gleeson?" The patient voice of Manchester's secretary filled his ear as he stared at the security monitors. He'd been a bit late reviewing last night's security feeds. Taking the day to help Erin had been a good move for her, but it put him behind on reports and such at work. He really didn't need a distraction.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Manchester needs to see you as soon as possible."

The summons, while not unheard of, was incredibly uncommon. Nathan nodded and hung up the phone, pausing the security feeds and leaving the room. He rode the elevator up to the top floor, still not entirely sure he liked the opulent, glass and steel feel of Manchester's domain. The secretary smiled distantly at him. She was a pretty woman known for wearing low-cut blouses and incredibly tight skirts. She did her job well, but Nathan sometimes wondered exactly what Manchester enjoyed on the side. After all, the entire floor was made of glass. Anyone coming out of the elevator could see anything that happened.

In his office, Manchester read over a report, appearing for all the world like the hard-working CEO others thought him to be. Nathan, however, knew how little he really had to do with the company. He was CEO in name only, collecting a massive paycheck for holding the occasional board meeting and mediating only the worst disputes.

Nathan headed for the open office door. "You wanted to see me, sir?" After years with England's royal family, he often resorted to formality when dealing with a superior. His formality tended to throw these Americans off balance a bit, and he liked feeling some level of control over the situation.

"Nathan, come in." Manchester rose and closed the door behind him, leaving Nathan with the uncanny sensation that he'd just been dumped into a fish bowl. "Have a seat."

Since Manchester had not indicated a specific chair, Nathan walked over to the couch he kept against the one real wall of the place. Perching on the edge, he allowed Manchester to choose his own place and waited.

Manchester met his eyes. "I'm afraid we may have an information leak."

Nathan narrowed his eyes. "Dr. Satters?"

"No, thank God." Manchester smiled ever so slightly, the vindictive expression appealing to Nathan. "Last I heard, she was behind bars. Something I'm sure you're very happy to hear."

"Yes, Sir." Nathan laced his fingers together, grateful that the residual pain and stiffness had faded.

"This leak is coming from accounting. We're not sure if it's just information on our financial status or if there's an embezzling scheme. I need you to investigate."

Nathan took a moment to consider his options. "You realize I'm not an investigator. Not in that sense."

"I realize that." Manchester nodded. "But, with our annual review coming up, I don't want to call in the official cops because it would look bad. I believe you understand."

Nathan understood more than he admitted. He knew what it was like to hide things from the media. "I see." He met the other man's eyes. "I'll look into it."

"Good." Manchester stood and clapped him on the shoulder. "I knew I could count on you."

Nathan knew he'd been dismissed, and he left without another word. But the conversation stayed with him. Manchester wanted him to run an internal investigation. Did that mean Rockwood Engineering had something to hide? If so, what would he do about it?

~oOo~

That evening, Erin skipped her door and went directly to Nathan's. She'd spotted his car in the parking lot and knew that he'd understand why she'd come to him. As she waited, she bit her lip and hoped that she'd be able to keep her composure. Tonight, she wasn't angry. She wasn't bitter. She wasn't even hurt. She was scared.

Nathan opened the door before she got her emotions under control. "Erin?"

"Can I. . .um. . .come in?" As soon as he spoke, she'd felt like crying on his shoulder.

"Of course." He pulled her into a hug as soon as the door closed behind her. Erin laid her head on his shoulder and let a few of the tears escape. She wanted to have prevented that day's events, but she couldn't have done anything about it. Rosalee was her own woman, and she had made her decision. It didn't make her feel any better to say it, so she didn't.

Finally, Nathan pushed her back and smoothed her hair from her face. "What happened?"

"Rosalee's in a coma," she blurted, seeing the way his eyes widened. "Yeah. She returned to her husband, and he beat her almost to death for caring enough to come back. I know I said I'll never understand women like her, but I really, _really_ don't understand men like him. Why would he do something like that?"

"I don't know." Nathan pulled her back into his arms and simply held her. She didn't cry this time, but the warmth of his arms confirmed one thing to her. She loved this man. And she wanted him to be there every time life got tough for her.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head but didn't leave his arms. "The baby's okay. Amazingly."

He blinked. "She didn't miscarry?"

"No." Erin shrugged. "The doctor's don't know why, and they don't know what kind of damage has been done to the baby because of the beating. But the baby's heartbeat is steady. Right now, Rosalee's in ICU, on life support. There's a slight chance she could wake up, but. . . . ."

"They're keeping her alive for the baby's sake."

Erin nodded. It was a harsh reality, and one she had to deal with. She'd seen men and women put into the hospital because of anger, hate, money, and power. But this was something she was completely unprepared to handle. How did she accept that Joe had put Rosalee into the hospital because he _loved_ her? At least, Rosalee said he did. Joe obviously thought he did. Erin knew better. Joe didn't love Rosalee. He controlled her and saw her as his personal punching bag. She was nothing to him, but she never saw it that way. It only made this entire situation worse.

"And Joe?" Nathan asked.

"The police have him in custody already." Erin let out a deep breath. "He went out for beers after he left her to die, and his friends have already turned state's evidence against him. None of them want to be considered an accessory to the murder of Rosalee and her child."

Nathan nodded. "Good." His tone dropped an octave as he said it, and his normal accent clipped and shortened as he spoke. He didn't need any other words than that one to express what he felt.

Erin liked the anger and vengeance in his voice. Without moving away, she shrugged. "So I didn't want to be alone this evening. At least, not yet."

"And you're more than welcome here."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Because I intrude quite regularly."

"Erin, you are more important to me than my privacy." Nathan grinned. "Quite frankly, I get enough of that. It's nice to come home and know I can knock on your door if I need anything. I want you to feel the same way about me."

She returned the grin. "Good. Because, right now, I'm just a little overwhelmed with everything that's happening. And I might be knocking on your door quite often."

"I hope you do." His flirtatious expression faded. "In all seriousness, however, maybe you should consider something."

"What's that?"

"A leave of absence." He tightened his hold when she stiffened. "Don't get angry until you hear what I have to say."

"Okay."

"You're overwhelmed." He shrugged. "You're dealing with Antonio's death, your father's engagement, your soon-to-be stepmother's profession, Rosalee's situation, and repairs to your home. That's enough to overwhelm anyone, even if they don't have the high-stress job you have. Cut yourself some slack and take some time off."

"Maybe." Erin didn't admit it, but the idea sounded really good.

Later that evening, she sat on her living room floor and stared at the patched wall. She felt that way, some days. A coat of paint tomorrow, and no one would even know the damage had been done. Somehow, she also felt like Nathan was putting her back together one piece at a time. She just hoped she didn't sabotage his work.

~TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Sabotaging Nathan's work was the last thing on Erin's mind four days later. She'd been insanely busy since their sweet conversation, and she'd barely made time for a second date with him. But she'd needed it. They had settled into a booth at an Italian restaurant and spent the next three hours letting their food grow cold while they talked about any and everything.

Now, however, Erin stood with her sunglasses firmly in place, windbreaker on, sidearm prominent, and feet shoulder-width apart. Just yesterday, Jerald announced that she'd be getting back in the field. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she was ready. She needed to stretch her muscles again, to feel the adrenaline surge that only came when she tracked down a hardened criminal. The time after Antonio's death had been good for her, but she wanted to get out again. Start living.

Nathan had been part of that process, and he was a welcome addition to her life. Erin rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. She'd told him that she would possibly be late getting home tonight, and he said he'd keep an eye out for her. He knew she'd be working in the field, just not what she'd be doing. It was their unspoken agreement. She didn't ask specifics about his job as head of security for Rockwood Engineering, and he didn't ask specifics about her work as a US Marshal. That level of trust went both ways, and it felt good.

Today was also a good day. Erin suppressed the feral grin that tried to escape as the plane came in for landing. Two years ago, a thirteen-year-old Latina had been kidnapped, abused, and killed. Police never found the perpetrator, though many thought the brother might have had something to do with it. His ties to gang members in the city was well-known, and police suspected one of those gang members might have taken an unhealthy interest in the girl. But nothing turned up. Six months later, another girl met the same fate, this one sixteen. Six months after that, a fourteen-year-old went missing and ended up dead. The FBI was called into the case, and the Marshals became involved when, two weeks ago, the Bureau found evidence linking an escaped con to the crimes. That escaped con was tracked down and, through a series of plea bargains, convinced to tell where his friend, the murderer, had gone. Today, the killer returned home.

The plane landed at a private airstrip, and Erin automatically tensed as the steps were lowered. There weren't many people lower than this guy, and she reveled in the idea that his fun and games in Hong Kong had been taken away. He walked out of the plane wearing an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs, confident smirk in place. Erin wanted to wipe the smirk away. Instead, she kept a sharp eye out for snipers and any other suspicious activities while other agents tucked him in the back of an unmarked van. Satisfied that they were safe, she jumped into the back and settled onto a bench. If everything went well, she'd be filling out paperwork at her desk within two hours.

As they drove through Dallas, Erin allowed her mind to wander back to Nathan's suggestion. _A leave of absence._ It was an appealing idea, especially since she'd received an email that morning from her father with a wedding date and location. She'd have to put her plans to remodel her kitchen on hold for the time being while she saved up enough to buy one seriously awesome wedding gift. As much as Elizabeth's presence in her family stressed her, Erin couldn't fault her father for falling in love with the woman. It sounded like they were just as suited for each other as she and Nathan were.

What should she buy them for their wedding? Erin kept her eyes moving around the van, trying to stay vigilant in spite of her thoughts. She'd already considered asking Nathan to go to the wedding with her and had decided that she'd give him another month before dropping that bombshell. They'd barely started dating, and, even though she knew she was already in love with him, she wanted things between them done right. Maybe it was his British sensibilities. Maybe it was simply _him_. But she didn't want to sabotage what they might one day share. If things continued as they were, she could honestly see herself married to the guy. For a girl who always said marriage wasn't an option, she certainly liked the idea now. But she couldn't go into a marriage with Nathan carrying regrets over her past or their actions before the wedding.

Shaking her head, Erin realized that she'd started thinking about things as if she and Nathan had decided last night to get married. Which couldn't have been further from the truth. Nathan had come over, and they'd finally gotten that wall painted. They'd also moved a couch from the front of the complex up the stairs and into her apartment. It had taken a good bit of maneuvering, not to mention an overly-large amount of laughter, but it was worth it. With the new brown leather couch in place—not under the window—they'd collapsed onto it in laughter and spent the next three hours teasing, talking, and generally acting like children. The man had a wicked sense of humor, and he used it well. She'd gone to bed almost sore from laughing so much.

In the front of the van, Jerald swore. Erin had all of a second to brace herself before she was thrown toward the front of the van. She managed just fine. The prisoner wound up on the ground.

Jerald glanced back. "Heads up. We've been blocked." He lifted his arm and spoke into the mic tucked in his sleeve, and the security net in Erin's ear crackled to life as the first gunshot pinged off the side of the truck.

Chaos erupted. More gunshots bounced off the truck, and then someone opened the back door. Erin had already drawn her weapon, and she nearly took the head off of one of a new agent simply trying to ensure their safety. Jerald had exited the front of the van while taking pot-shots at their attackers. A random bullet ended the life of the agent at the back of the van, and Jerald swore again as another shot came a little too close.

Cursing the new agent's idiocy for exposing those in the back of the van like that, Erin peeked around the edge as she got a lay of the land. The lead and tail cars of their little convoy had been boxed in by two semis. There was literally nowhere for them to go. A glance back told her that the prisoner had crouched on one knee, looking ready to flee at a moment's notice. Erin knew him to be a flight risk and began ordering around the few agents in the back of the van. As they moved to comply, another bullet whizzed inside and killed a second agent.

Erin froze. Rather than seeing the agent fall, she saw Antonio. Was this what it was like for him? Had he known moments before he died that it was the end? What had he thought about? Her? His family? His decisions?

What about Nathan? Erin flinched as the dead agent hit the floor of the van in slow motion. Or so her frazzled mind saw it. What would he think when she just didn't come home? She couldn't leave him. Not like this. Not without having told him that she loved him. She didn't want to die. She wanted a life with Nathan.

And Rosalee. What if she died? Who would fight to keep her on life support so that her child could live? Who would raise the child? Rosalee had no family, and neither did Joe. Erin knew that a child in the system had a worse chance than one that was adopted and wanted. If she died, she wouldn't even be able to consider the option of adopting Rosalee's child should her friend never wake up.

And her father. And Elizabeth. With their wedding just two months away, she couldn't leave them. Erin blinked slowly. What kind of wedding would it be for them if her father's only child got killed just prior to it? Everything was in order. She knew. She'd planned for this eventuality.

She didn't want to die. It came down to that for her. She _refused_ to die.

Sound rushed back in, and the moment ended. Erin lifted her sidearm, took aim, and managed to drop one of their attackers. The gunshot echoed in the van, and she ignored the deafened sensation that would take a few hours to clear. Marshals shouted to each other on the security net, and sirens sounded in the background. Erin located another of their attackers and fired another round.

A flash of orange skittered across her peripheral vision, and Erin whirled. Their prisoner had escaped. She yelled into the security net, adding her own voice to the cacophony. Then, she dropped from the van and gave chase. Jerald also joined her, and she smiled viciously. By trying to escape, this guy had just given them the right to take him out.

A man Erin recognized as the brother of the first murdered girl stepped from behind one of the semis and lifted a gun. Erin yelled, but he pulled the trigger anyway, watching as his sister's murderer fell to the ground, dead. Jerald and Erin both hollered for him to drop the weapon and raise his hands. Instead, he turned and ran.

Grateful for the sturdy boots she'd worn that day, Erin took off at a dead run. She hadn't enjoyed a good foot chase in a while, and she needed to stretch her legs. Her lungs burned, but the wind whipping past her face was worth it all. They ran along the canal at Las Colinas, the stamped pavement a blur under her feet. Erin started gaining on the guy but had to duck behind a bridge column when he turned to fire on her. She saw Jerald behind her, also ducking. Jerald popped up to take a shot, and the guy ran in spite of the chipped concrete at his feet.

Erin gulped in as much air as possible and followed him again. The canal continued, and the guy gained ground. With a spurt of speed she didn't know she had, she dove for him. They impacted pavement, the stamped pattern scraping the side of her face as they rolled.

The fight ended when they landed in the water. By the time the guy got his feet under him, Erin had managed to put him in a choke hold and had turned to face a very angry, gun-toting Jerald.

Two other Marshals arrived, out of breath and carrying guns. Erin stood in hip-deep water as they hauled the shooter from the canal. The guy was the brother of the first victim, and he'd obviously found a way to get revenge. Erin couldn't disagree with him, but she could have done without eating concrete.

Pushing out of the water, she bent over and braced her hands against her knees. Her breath still came in gasps, and she now felt the pain from her face. Her head ached, indicating a probable concussion, and her face stung from the water. Deciding that sitting down was better, she dropped onto the concrete, her soaked clothing dulling the heat rolling off of it.

Jerald crouched down next to her. "You really did a number on your face."

"Yeah, I noticed." She let out a deep breath as she finally figured out how to breathe normally.

He frowned. "What happened back there?" When she looked up sharply, Jerald narrowed his eyes. "Back in the van, you froze. You've never frozen before."

Erin nodded. "I know." She shrugged as paramedics appeared. "Antonio happened."

Jerald lifted his chin. "I thought as much." He turned and motioned to the paramedics. "Over here, guys."

Erin glared. "I'm not going to the hospital."

"Yes, you are."

"Jerald, all I want to do is go home to my boyfriend, not get poked and prodded."

"Erin, you're going to the hospital, _then_ you can go home. Deal?"

She frowned. "Only if it works out like that."

~oOo~

Nathan sighed as he slid into his car after work. He'd set up interviews with everyone in accounting as he tried to find the information leak. Unfortunately for him, Manchester had given him no other directions. He was on his own, and he hated the vagueness of his orders. Most of the time, vague orders meant he wasn't supposed to know something.

Switching on the air conditioning, Nathan pulled out of Rockwood's parking lot and headed home. His head hurt, and he wanted nothing more than a good book and some quiet. Or to spend time with Erin. Either one would work for him.

It surprised him how quickly he'd become accustomed to her presence in his life. His decision to tell her about his past hadn't changed one iota of his feelings for her. It had, however, changed how he treated her. Just the idea that she would one day know his darkest secret created an intimacy that sex alone could not produce. When he and Erin finally crossed those lines, they would do so knowing everything about one another.

Not really wanting to continue that train of thought, Nathan punched the button for the radio. It was the top of the hour, so the news would be on. But, once the newscast finished, he'd have music for the rest of his commute.

"_And in local news, today, US Marshals were caught in a surprise gunfight near the Las Colinas canal."_ The newscaster's bored voice seemed to gain some momentum.

Nathan slammed on the brakes. _Erin was in a shootout?_ The car behind him honked at his sudden stop, and he gripped the wheel as he tried to maneuver off the road. "Bloody bollocks!" He glared out the front window, turning up the news report as he pulled into a convenience store parking lot.

"_It is unclear right now as to the true nature of the event, but several Marshals were killed and one taken to the hospital with injuries. An arrest has been made, and local police are handling the crime scene. We will continue to update you as we learn more."_

Nathan sat and stared out the front window. Several Marshals were killed? Erin? Fear rose in him at the thought, and he clenched his jaw. He would_ not_ panic. Not now. Not yet. He'd go home and stake out her door until she appeared. And, if she didn't. . . . No matter how much training he'd received, he couldn't handle the idea that she might be dead.

Carefully pulling back into traffic, Nathan drove home and trudged upstairs. What if Erin had died today? He'd never told her he loved her. He hadn't said half the things that he wanted to say. If their path ended before it really got a chance to start. . . .

The ding of the elevator interrupted his morose, concerned thoughts as he closed his door. Yanking it back open, he peeked out. Erin walked out of the elevator, her shoulders slouched and head down. He knew today likely stung, especially with Antonio's death so recent in her mind. Rather than rushing her, he waited with his door open. She'd come to him when she was ready.

She looked up and Nathan winced. The right side of her face was bruised and scraped, and she had a bandage just above her right eye. The sleeve on her jacket was torn, and he saw a few more scrapes on her hands. Her sidearm was in her holster, and her jeans whispered softly as she walked.

He thought she'd never looked more beautiful.

Seeing him, Erin hesitated ever so slightly and then rushed into his arms. Nathan held her as she gingerly laid her head on his shoulder. Now that he saw her alive, walking, and breathing, he felt like a fool. He'd been so worried about her, but it now seemed silly. When she lifted her head, he smiled. "Are you okay?"

She shrugged with one shoulder. "I have a concussion, needed two stitches above my eye, and got doused in the Las Colinas canal. But, otherwise, I'm fine."

"Good." He didn't know what else to say. If he said much more, he would wind up pouring out his every thought, something she didn't need right now.

She frowned. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, for one, you're rather calm about all of this."

Nathan blinked. She wanted him to panic? "You're alive. I'll cope."

"You'll cope?" Her violet eyes sparked. "Is that all you can say? I watched two good men die today! _Two_ of them! Do you even _know_ what that feels like? One of them was following my orders! _My_ orders! I told him to do something, and he _died_ for it!"

He understood that she was reacting, and he tried to stay calm. "Erin."

"_Don't_ 'Erin' me, Nathan. It's not what I need right now!"

"What do you need?"

"Maybe a little more reaction out of you!"

"Bloody. . .!" He cut off the curse that tried to escape when their elderly neighbor poked her head out her door. Dragging Erin inside his apartment, he closed the door and rounded on her. "I just heard the feckin' news tellin' me that you were in a shoot-out with a bunch of muppets, the feckless wonders! I'm fallin' in love with you, and I didn't even know if you're injured or not!" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Give me a break 'ere."

Erin stared at him, her eyes wide. All fight seemed to leave. "I'm sorry, Nathan. Really, I am. I just. . . ." She shook her head. "There was a moment, there, when I watched Marshal Whitman fall that I suddenly realized what could happen today. I guess. . . . I froze. I couldn't move, and I know what that could have done to my team. I just couldn't help it."

"Erin." He nudged her chin up, careful of the angry red scrapes on her face. "Love, I'm worried about you. You're overwhelmed."

"I know." She sighed and walked away from him. Shedding her jacket with "US MARSHAL" printed across the back, she draped it over the back of a dining room chair. She seemed to have trouble putting everything into perspective at the moment, something he knew came from losing two men so soon after Antonio's death.

"Did you know them well?"

"What?"

"The agents. Did you know them well?"

"Not really." She faced him. "I'm sorry I blasted you a few minutes ago."

He smiled, already liking where the evening was headed. It wasn't passion, just pure companionship. "Stay for dinner. I'll cook, and you can relax while letting that concussion settle before bed."

Walking over to him, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Nathan took another moment to return the kiss, this time on her lips. Keeping it light, however, he smiled into her eyes. "Always my pleasure."

~TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** For those of you following this story, I apologize profusely for not posting on Saturday. I finished writing this story on Friday, only a day after my computer completely crashed. So, on Saturday, my brain was nowhere near functional! LOL! But, here's the next chapter, even if it is technically over a day late. Enjoy! ~lg

~oOo~

After dinner, Erin went home and went to bed. She'd been given the opportunity to shower at the hospital, an unfortunate result of being doused in canal water, and had taken it. Now, she just wanted to sleep. Being at Nathan's and having him hover had been nice. He hadn't smothered her but simply cooked. She'd watched him in the small kitchen, enjoying the way he looked in shirt sleeves and a towel draped over his shoulder. He refused to serve her any wine but made tea from his personal stash. While she preferred her blueberry-vanilla variety, she admitted to enjoying the stronger English tea as well. Perhaps she needed to find some to keep on hand.

Nathan had kissed her goodnight, though he hadn't let it get too intense. For once, Erin was grateful. Her entire body ached, an unfortunate result of her run, the scrapes down her side, and the tension that drained away. Nathan had learned that she decompressed slowly, usually after an explosive confrontation with someone who wouldn't hold it against her. She loved him for it, as well as for the way he simply saw to her every need. She couldn't tell anyone what he made for dinner, but she remembered the way his blue eyes sparkled as he carried her plate to her. They hadn't talked much, his awareness of her concussion keeping the sounds to a minimum.

The next morning, Erin carried a cup of tea to the table and settled with her computer. She needed to find a gift for her father and Elizabeth, and she had no idea what to buy. Normally, she would have invested in a new set of dishes or some such gift, but both Vernon and Elizabeth came from established lives. They were combining households, not starting from scratch.

She wound up looking at dishes anyway. Her eyes drifted back to her tea set, and she grinned. Typing a few key words into the search engine, she discovered a world of dinnerware that made her want to spend a lot of money and cook for someone. If she were really honest, she already had someone she wanted around all the time, but the dishes fascinated her.

Her tea set wasn't authentic Blue Willow. Erin grinned as she looked at it. She loved it anyway, partially because it had been a gift from Nathan. But it also led her to find Blue Willow dishes, something she had never really cared about. Why did it matter if her dishes matched or not? It's not like anyone was eating at her house very often. But now. . . . She shook her head. Nathan had made such a difference in her life already.

Blue Willow china fascinated her. She discovered that it wasn't just the color combination, though the blue and white appealed on so many levels. Every piece of Blue Willow contained a large Chinese home with a willow tree, a bridge with three figures on it, a humble servant's cottage at the foot of the bridge, a Chinese ship, and two love birds above the willow tree. The more she looked at the dishes, the more she loved them. Reading the story behind the picture only added to the romance.

Erin's stomach growled, and she frowned at the clock. It was lunchtime already? Pushing her sore body from the couch, she showered and dressed, figuring that she'd make a quick run to the nearest McDonald's. She didn't want to cook, and she didn't want to be around anyone other than Nathan.

Rosalee would say she was hopeless. Erin smiled as she drove. She'd come to depend on Rosalee for perspective in her relationship with Nathan. Rosalee saw the romance in things where Erin saw the practicalities. She liked the romance, but her mind was geared to think about logistics, complications, and roadblocks. An unfortunate result of her career in law enforcement. She knew she needed to start thinking about the romance if she wanted this with Nathan to last. He was romantic, serving her dinner and tea, calling her "love," being there to hold her. It radiated from him, and she liked how she felt when he was like that. But she worried that she'd run him away with her focus on practical things.

Making an impulsive decision, Erin turned her car toward the hospital. She'd been taken to the same hospital yesterday, but her head had ached so badly that she didn't want to think about more than sleeping. Of course, she'd seen Nathan and argued with him. But even that had been worth it all. _He said he's falling in love with me_, she thought as she mentally rehearsed what she'd say to Rosalee. _I scared him, Rosalee. Big time. I didn't think I'd ever do that to someone. And I thought, with his job, that he'd understand. But there he was, telling me that he's falling in love with me and looking like I threatened his best friend._

At the hospital, Erin ignored the startled glances from nurses as she made her way to Rosalee's hospital room. Rosalee had stabilized since her attack, but she still hadn't come out of the coma. The doctors were testing to see how much brain function she really had. Right now, she was still on a respirator.

In the hospital room, Erin walked over to the bed. "Hey." She stared into Rosalee's healing face, her anger at Joe rising yet again. She'd warned Rosalee, and it stung to see her friend reduced to a living shell. "How are you, today?"

Erin rolled her eyes. Of course Rosalee wasn't going to answer. But Erin had always heard that people in comas understood when others spoke to them. So, Erin talked. She touched Rosalee's arm, surprised at how queasy she really felt about her friend's injuries. "I just thought I'd stop by and tell you about my week." She smiled sadly, knowing tears wouldn't help. They'd only make her face sting. "I'm off today because there was an incident at work yesterday. I'll be fine, but I gave myself a concussion. Jerald wants me to take it easy today."

Erin pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. "Nathan said he's falling in love with me." She chuckled. "Yeah, it's hard to believe, isn't it? I mean, what in the _world_ is he thinking? But yesterday. . . .It scared me, Rose, and I'm not sure what it did to him. He just. . . . I didn't understand half of what he said, but it was _sexy_! I mean, when he goes Brit. . . ." She drew in a deep breath as she laughed at herself. Why could she never admit these things in the privacy of her own home?

Drawing her mind away from Nathan and his rant, she changed the topic. "I found some dishes I want. They're called Blue Willow." She smiled. "You'd like them, but you'd like the story behind them even more. The legend says that there was this rich Chinese lord who arranged a marriage for his daughter to a very wealthy, very old merchant. The girl fell for her father's clerk and eloped with him. The father chased her daughter across the sea and planned to kill them. But the gods decided to intervene and transformed them into a pair of doves."

A steady heartbeat reached her ears, and Erin looked to where doctors had put monitoring equipment on Rosalee's baby. She moved her hand and gently laid it over her friend's stomach. "Hey, little one." She smiled sadly. "How are you today?"

No movement greeted her voice or touch since the baby had not yet developed to that stage.

Erin removed her hand, feeling self-conscious at touching Rosalee's stomach. "Well, I should go." She straightened. "I'll be back to visit, Rose. I promise."

With a final touch to Rosalee's arm, Erin left the hospital room. She hated the feeling, but her gut told her that she'd be spending a lot more time in that room until Rosalee recovered. If she ever recovered.

~oOo~

A week later, Nathan went through his day with his mind only partially focused on his job. Not a healthy mentality, he knew, but he needed to think. Erin had invaded more than his home recently. She'd invaded his dreams. Last night, he'd dreamed that the bullets hadn't stopped, that she hadn't made it out of that gunfight alive. He had awakened covered in a fine sheen of sweat as he realized what he'd refused to believe.

She'd scared him. More than he thought possible. More than she should have for this stage of their relationship. They'd dated twice, but they'd long passed the initial stages of a true relationship. He'd been honest when he said he was falling in love with her, even if he'd slipped in telling her.

If he continued down this path, Erin would discover the truth. That he wasn't legally Nathan Gleeson. That he was wanted for treason. That he'd plotted to murder someone. And not just anyone, but the Princess of Wales, a woman he'd once admired and was coming to admire again. Victoria hadn't done anything wrong, but it had taken Erin to show Nathan his mistake. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, using the excuse that he'd been staring at a computer screen for too long as an easy way out of the concerned glances of his men.

"Mr. Gleeson, Mr. Manchester wants to see you." The tone of the messenger said Nathan should hurry.

Pushing out of his chair, Nathan buttoned his suit coat and followed the man out of the security room. His operation flowed smoothly, and he knew they could do without him for however long this meeting took. His investigation into the information leak had turned up nothing more than accountants who liked to talk to each other. He had followed the trail but had come up empty. Well, empty was the wrong word. He'd discovered that two of the accountants kept confidential documents on their home computers so that they could continue working even after the workday ended. He'd turned those names over to Manchester and thought the incident closed.

As he stepped out of the elevator, he ran a quick hand over his hair. It was in place, he knew, but personal preference dictated that he appear the best he could before meeting the boss. Just as he passed the secretary, he straightened his tie and lifted his chin.

In Manchester's office, Nathan waited to be acknowledged. Manchester kept him standing in the door of his office for ten minutes, during which time Nathan nearly walked out. He liked his job, but he refused to be treated like a servant. Even the Princess of Wales hadn't done that.

Finally, Manchester hung up the phone and motioned him inside.

Like last time, Nathan stepped into the office positioned his back to the one wall of the room. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes." Manchester waved toward the couch, and Nathan settled on the edge. "I looked over your report on our information leak, and I've come to a decision about the accounting problem."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that problem under the purview of Human Resources?"

"Normally, yes." Manchester's eyes glittered. "But there's been a complication with turning this over to HR."

"A complication?"

"Yes." Manchester lifted his chin. "You see, Nathan, some things require a lot more finesse than HR can provide. And I believe you're the man for the job." He narrowed his eyes. "I've done some research on you, and I _know_ you'll have no qualms with what I'm about to ask you to do."

Nathan never gave anything away, but he mentally sat up straighter. What had Manchester found on him? His background had been carefully constructed, his past hidden under layers of paperwork and artfully spun lies. Revealing that to Erin had been something Nathan was willing to do. He had no intention of confessing everything to Manchester.

Fortunately for him, Manchester shrugged. "Your investigation brought both Janice Christensen and Micah Raynor to our attention. Both of them had confidential files on their computer, but only Janice was leaking information. I need you. . . ." He paused to meet Nathan's eyes. ". . .to _assist_ with the problem. A man like you won't have any issues with it, will he?"

"Sir, I'm not entirely sure I know what you mean." Nathan decided to play the clueless card. "I understand that you're asking me to resolve an issue, but. . . ."

"That's exactly what I want." Manchester rose and walked away from him, looking out over downtown Dallas. When he turned, his face had hardened into a mask. "Can I count on you, Mr. Nathan?"

Nathan took his time getting to his feet as he absorbed the implications of that question. The wording, the question itself, took him back in time. Suddenly, he wasn't in Manchester's office. He was standing over the body of Gerard, debating whether to follow Templeton or not. Templeton had used that exact question, and Nathan wished he'd said "no." Instead, he'd allowed Templeton's propaganda to change his mind.

Lifting his chin, Nathan looked Manchester in the eye. "I will. . .resolve the situation."

"Good." Manchester turned back to his downtown view, the conversation concluded to his liking.

Nathan walked out of the office, jaw clenched. He'd just been ordered to kill someone, though not in so many words. Manchester had used his past as a way to hint at what he truly wanted. As he walked into the elevator, Nathan came to a decision. With Erin in his life, he couldn't just walk away like he had before.

Nor could he kill an innocent woman. Nathan's head started aching again as he resumed his duties for the day. Janice Christensen didn't deserve to die simply because she committed an act of corporate espionage. If that was what she'd done. His decision, while an easy one, came at a price. He'd need help.

To get that help, he'd have to tell Erin everything.

~oOo~

Erin left the hospital, her heels clicking on the concrete as she walked. She'd started coming every day after work, chatting with Rosalee even though she doubted she'd ever get a response. The doctors had finished their tests, and they'd come to the conclusion that Rosalee would never wake up. Her autonomic functions were fine, but she'd lost all higher brain function. While she didn't require life support, she was nothing more than an incubator for her child.

Erin wiped away her tears as she drove out of the parking lot. Chloe had been there today, crying as she broke the news to Erin. Both women stayed silent for a long time, staring at the tragic conclusion to Rosalee's marriage. If only she hadn't returned to Joe. . . . Erin sighed. She could "if only" herself into the grave. Rosalee had made the decision and had paid the consequences. And it sucked.

And the baby would grow up without ever knowing its mother or its father. Joe's parental rights had been terminated due to his actions, and the child would enter the foster care system unless someone stepped forward to adopt it. For the first time in years, Erin's mind returned to a dream she'd let die. Children. A family. She was under no illusion that she'd be a single mother, but she couldn't allow Rosalee's baby to live in foster care for its entire life. Every child deserved to know he or she was wanted.

What would Nathan think about this new direction? Would he run for the hills if he knew she'd begun considering adopting a baby? Would he think it hasty? Erin knew enough to realize that she couldn't make this decision right away. Being a mother wasn't something one could just rush into without some careful preparation. But. . . . .

Erin arrived home before she worked out her questions.

~oOo~

The time had arrived. Nathan clocked out, waved goodbye to the swing shift security head, and pulled out his keys. Looking for all the world like he was going home, he spotted Janice Christensen ahead of him. A woman in her late fifties, she wore a smart business suit and pearls. Her sensible heels didn't click like Erin's did, and Nathan shook his head. The day he'd dreaded was upon him, and he was determined to face it like a man.

Janice walked up to a late model gray sedan. Nathan rushed toward her and stopped her when she opened the door. She stared at him, tired green eyes sparking. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Saving your life." He closed her car door and pointed to his own vehicle. "If you want to live, come with me."

She frowned at him. "Is this some sick joke?"

"I assure you it's not." He stepped close. "Look, I know you're not inclined to trust me right now, but I _need_ you to come with me. I've been ordered to kill you."

"And why would I come with you with that introduction?"

"Because I'm not going to do it." He let out a deep breath. "My girlfriend's a US Marshal. She knows what she's talking about, and she'll help us. Please. Just come with me."

Janice blinked at him but allowed him to herd her toward his car. Nathan knew that shock made her impressionable, but he didn't complain. He needed to get her out of here as quickly as possible. In his car, he drove out of the parking lot while Janice stared out the window. He was somewhat surprised she didn't pepper him with questions or accusations, but he allowed her some space to think. He knew the questions would come. But the threat of death must have shaken her more than he'd expected.

At his apartment, he opened the door and escorted her inside. Janice walked in and looked around. "So you got me alone to kill me in private?"

Nathan couldn't stop the snort. "If I wanted you dead, I would have taken you some place different. I would _not_ have brought you to my home." He crossed the room and closed the blinds, not wanting anyone monitoring him to see what was happening. He pointed. "There's Scotch next to the fireplace, tea on the counter. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. I'll be back in five to seven minutes. You're free to leave during that time, but, if you do, I can't protect you. Manchester will send someone else after you, though I can guarantee it won't be me."

"Manchester?" Janice followed him toward the door. "What. . . .?"

Nathan shut the questions out by simply closing his door. Walking next door to Erin's home, he knocked and waited. She answered wearing a sleeveless white blouse and champagne-colored skirt. Rather than waiting for her to invite him in, he pushed past her and pulled her into his arms. Kissing her as gently as possible given her still-bruised face, he savored the last few moments of normalcy.

Erin blinked up at him when he finally pulled back. "Not that I'm complaining. But what was that for?"

He let out a deep breath. "I need your help." He headed for the door. "Bring your sidearm."

He left her staring after him with as much confusion as Janice had.

~TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Erin's heart thudded once when Nathan told her to bring her gun. He'd been so adamantly against physical intimacy in their relationship to date that her mind never jumped to inappropriate conclusions. Instead, she began going through the different options. He'd been arrested, blackmailed, attacked, or robbed. She did not expect the woman in her mid-fifties that stood in his living room, glaring at the two of them like they'd destroyed her life. Which, based on Nathan's expression, they probably had.

Erin turned to Nathan, her mouth open to ask a question. Before she could speak, he held up a hand. "I know what you're about to ask. It wasn't my idea to bring her here. Not originally."

The woman rounded on him. "Not your idea? You're the one who forced me into your car!"

"I gave you a choice."

"Not really." She turned to Erin. "This man approached me as I got to my car this afternoon and told me to come with him if I wanted to live. What else was I supposed to do?"

Erin turned to Nathan, reserving judgment until she heard his side of the story. Still, she searched his blue eyes for the truth. And found it. Nathan was scared. Furious. Worried. That last one concerned Erin. The last time she'd seen him worried, they'd argued. It made her blink. "Nathan?"

He shrugged out of his suit coat, revealing the shoulder holster and loaded Glock he still wore. "I'm sorry," he said to Janice. Turning to Erin, he sighed. "I needed to get her to a secure location, and I could only think of here. I don't know if I'm being monitored, but I needed your help."

Erin ignored Janice's indignant snort. "Help with what?"

"Manchester hired me to kill her."

"_What?"_ This time, the exclamation came from both women.

Erin held up a hand. "Hold on. Back up. Run that one by me again."

"Manchester called me into his office a couple weeks ago, just before this," Nathan explained as he ran a gentle finger down Erin's still-healing face. "There was an information leak in the accounting department at Rockwood, and he wanted me to find it. I investigated and took the information to him. Only Ms. Christensen here and one other employee had confidential records on their computers at home. I assumed that they'd simply be fired due to the nature of the infraction. Instead, Manchester called me into his office to 'talk' today. Instead, he ordered me to kill her.

"Erin, there's a lot about me that you don't know, and we'll have to discuss that later." Nathan sighed. "Right now, we need to sort this out and get Janice somewhere secure until we can figure out the next step."

Erin ignored the worry that skittered down her spine at Nathan's announcement that she didn't know everything about him and turned to the woman. "Ms. Christensen, I'm Erin Mitchell, US Marshal Service." She pulled out the badge still tucked inside her purse. "Let's sit down and see if we can sort this thing out."

The woman nodded once, accepting the badge as proof of Erin's identity. Nathan went into the kitchen, and Erin knew from the sounds that he was making tea. She perched on the edge of his chair and looked the other woman in the eye. "You are. . .?"

"Janice Christensen." Her voice shook. "Someone's trying to kill me?"

Erin tried to smile and couldn't quite manage. "If Nathan says so, I believe him. Besides, in situations like this, it's better to err on the side of caution."

"Oh."

"Why would Manchester try to hire Nathan to kill you?"

The question threw Janice for a moment. "I don't know. I mean. . . .Oh." Her eyes filled with tears. "I thought I had those files encrypted! I thought they couldn't find them!"

"Whoa, slow down." Erin touched Janice's arm with a firm hand. "Start at the beginning."

"Um. . . I found some anomalies in the financial reports for last quarter." Janice swallowed hard and rubbed a hand over her face, her dignified exterior failing in light of the truth. "My supervisor asked me to investigate, and I did. Only I didn't take the reports back to him. I took them to the FTC."

"The Federal Trade Commission?"

"Yes." She seemed to be calming slightly. "It's a matter of oversight here. Most of our financial records are internal. But anything related to our overseas functions has to be reported to the government. Especially when the money is being sent to various shell corporations that fund. . . .You'll never believe me."

Nathan paused as he carried the tea tray toward them. "Try us."

Janice eyed them dubiously. "The shell corporations fund international terrorism."

Erin blinked, trying to absorb the implications of that statement. If Manchester and Rockwood Engineering were funding international terrorism. . . . .She turned to Nathan. "Your hands. What happened to them?"

He pressed his lips together and let out a deep breath. "An experimental weapon called the PGV-3. Plasma Gun, Version Three. It's one of several weapons projects that Rockwood is developing for the US government."

Janice held up a finger. "But those plans can also be sent to anyone with access to Rockwood's records. And we already know that Manchester was funneling money overseas. What if he was doing more than funneling money?"

Erin rubbed her eyes. "Either way, he's funding our enemies." She turned back to Janice while Nathan served tea. "You're sure?"

"Sure enough to go to the feds and have them ask me for more intel." Janice let out a deep breath. "Manchester's really trying to kill me?"

Nathan nodded. "I'm sorry. He asked me to do it, but I won't. That's why I brought you here."

Erin pushed to her feet, her hand closing around a warm cup of tea as she began to walk through Nathan's apartment. Security was good for a while, but she couldn't guarantee someone with infrared imaging technology couldn't see into the place. It was Rockwood Engineering, after all. They did not lack technology.

Walking back into the living room, she met Nathan's eyes and knew he understood. They were about to leave. A glance at Janice told her that the other woman had no idea. It would be so easy to pick her off with a decent sniper rifle. Erin sighed and yanked out her cell phone. She dialed and waited for an answer. "Jerald, it's Erin."

On the other end, Jerald yawned. "Yeah, what's up?"

"You still in the office?"

"Where else would I be?" He paused to sip something, probably coffee. "I've been here until midnight every night this week. What's on your mind?"

"That leave of absence?" She turned her back on the other two people in the room. "I need to take it."

"Erin, what's going on?"

"A situation with the family, Rosalee, getting caught in a gunfight, Antonio's death. Pick one." She shook her head. "I'm overwhelmed, and I need the time."

"I see." Jerald sighed. "Well, I can't say that I'm surprised. I did want you to take time off."

"I'll fax over the paperwork." Erin thought of something else. "Jerald, I'm going off the grid for a bit. I need to get my focus back, and I'm not going to do that if I keep getting told what's happening in the office."

"I understand." Jerald's tone told her that he understood her unspoken message. "Off the grid" was his code word for their destination. "Take the time you need, Erin. We'll be here when you get back."

She hung up the phone and faced Nathan. "We need to leave. Tonight."

"Leave?" Janice jumped to her feet as Nathan went to pack a bag. "But I thought. . . ."

"Janice, when Manchester figures out that Nathan didn't kill you like he was supposed to, he's going to send his own men to this apartment. It will be best if we are as far away from here as possible. The _only_ way to keep you alive right now is to go to ground." Erin held out her hand. "Cell phone and credit cards. Now."

Janice mutely handed them over, watching with wide eyes as Erin removed the battery from the phone and tossed the whole thing into the trash. She then rummaged through Nathan's drawers for scissors and cut up the credit cards.

Nathan returned. "Go pack," he said with a hand on Erin's back. "I'll take care of this here."

Erin looked at him and understood what he was trying to tell her. He was sorry. He hated the position he'd put her into. She laid her hand on the side of his face. "We'll see her through this, Nathan. And we'll make it."

"I hope so." The worry in his tone bothered her the entire time she packed her bags.

~oOo~

Erin stopped in Odessa, Texas, to fax her leave of absence paperwork to Jerald. Nathan knew most things didn't happen this fast, but Jerald obviously saw the same thing he had: Erin needed a break. Unfortunately, she wouldn't get one any time soon.

She'd transformed, he knew. He shook his head. Erin had always been a strong, capable woman who demanded respect. When she went into her US Marshal persona, she was downright intimidating. She handled Janice with a mix of firm determination and compassion, and she quietly relied on him to see to their safety. That trust worried him given the nature of his secrets.

Just before noon, Erin pulled the Ford Explorer she'd used cash to rent into the driveway of a run-down house in the middle of some place she called Hondo Valley. Nathan knew they had reached southern New Mexico, and he liked the rolling hills of the area. Erin explained that the Marshals rented this home from the largest ranch in the area to use as a safe house for compromised agents, which meant that they could control who approached and who didn't. She soothed his concerns that the house wouldn't be livable and promptly escorted Janice inside.

Nathan followed a bit slower. Now that he looked, he saw the signs of careful maintenance. Someone wanted this house to look unlivable. A path led around a curve toward a stream, and Nathan spotted not-so-decrepit rocking chairs on the back side of the house, behind an overgrown shrub that sheltered them from view all the way around. He picked his spot to talk with Erin when everything settled.

The stress and the road trip tired Janice, and she went right to a shower and bed. Nathan set about unpacking the food they'd brought in coolers, bought in the Roswell Wal-Mart. Erin seemed to know her way around New Mexico, and he wondered how many times she'd been here. Had it been during an investigation or protecting someone else? The amount of cash she had laying around her home surprised him, and he knew she prepared for this eventuality every day of her life.

Finally, he found her settled on the rocking chair outside. The full heat of the day had arrived, leaving the small swamp cooler in the house struggling to keep the temperature below seventy-five degrees. Outside in this little alcove, the temperature soared to close to ninety-five degrees.

Nathan handed a cold bottle of water to her. "How are you?"

"Tired."

"You drove across country last night."

She shifted in her chair to face him, the shadows highlighting the bruising on her face. "Nathan, what happened?"

"Exactly what I told you. Manchester ordered me to kill her."

Erin shook her head. "There's more." When he stared at her, she smiled. "Part of my job is being able to read people, to tell when they're hiding something. I haven't done that to you because you aren't part of the job. You're my boyfriend. But, last night when you first came over, there was something more. And, if we're going to keep Janice alive, we have to be on the same page. We have to _completely_ trust each other."

"Erin, love, that's what I'm concerned about." Nathan let out a deep breath. "When you hear what I've done, you'll take Janice and leave me here."

"Try me."

The dare hung between them. Nathan narrowed his eyes as he braced his elbows on his knees. "You don't want to do that, love."

"Why?" She shrugged. "So I may get angry. So I may be hurt. But, Nathan, here's the real heart of the matter: if you don't tell me now, when will you tell me? After we've decided to get married if that's where we're headed? After we've decided to move in together? Or will you wait until one of us gets shot or injured to decide that I should know whatever's eating at you? Quite frankly, none of those options are good ones."

He admitted she had a point. Taking a deep breath, he decided to start with the story. "First of all, my name isn't Nathan Gleeson." He glanced at her, saw the stiffening of her shoulders and the narrowing of her eyes. "It's _Richard_ Nathan. Legally, anyway. I do come from Liverpool, I did move Down South to Surrey for university, and I did work in the London area for a long time."

"But. . .?"

"But, I'm a wanted man." He saw the impact of those words. She blinked quickly and recovered, but it wasn't her normal, warm expression. She'd slipped into her Marshal persona again, a defense against his revelation.

"And why are you a wanted man? And by whom?"

He almost smiled at how formal her words sounded. "The British crown." He raised a hand to stall her outburst. "Let me finish, love. Then you can react."

"Fine." She folded her arms.

"Two years ago, I was head of security for Victoria, Princess of Wales." He laced his fingers together and stared at his hands, allowing himself to truly examine his time with the royal family. "During a visit to New York City, she met a paramedic named Tony."

"It was all over the news."

"Yes." Nathan internally cringed at her cold tone. "Templeton, special envoy to the Crown, came to me with the news that the princess had betrayed her country. I was skeptical, but I could not ignore what he said. After all, he was responsible for the well-being of the royal family. I listened and helped hatch a plan to kill Victoria. Gerard, a good man and good friend, discovered the plot and hired Christopher Chance to protect the princess. In the process, Templeton and Victoria's now-ex-husband, Walter, were arrested. I managed to escape, get back on my feet, and disappear."

"And you're telling me this now because we're stuck here together?"

"I'm telling you this because I love you." He shrugged. "I know you're not going to believe me, and I know you're going to want a lot more proof of that, but I don't have it. Not yet."

"You want time?" She pushed to her feet and shoved the unopened bottle of water back into his hands. "I'll give you time. Just. . .don't expect things to be the same when we get home."

Nathan watched her disappear around the curve and knew she needed to absorb what he'd told her. But it stung. Badly. He'd known she would react this way, especially after learning that she was a US Marshal. Would she try to arrest him? Or would she just walk out of his life, transfer to a new office, and start over again? He let out a deep breath as he considered all of his options.

Rejection had never stung so badly, and Nathan understood how Victoria must have felt when she learned her husband wanted her dead. If he could go back and do things over, he would have told Templeton that he couldn't be trusted. But he hadn't. Helping Janice was his form of redemption. By using the same words that Templeton had used, Manchester had, inadvertently, issued a challenge. And Nathan refused to make the same mistake twice, especially since his future with Erin depended on it.

Knowing Erin wouldn't want to see him when she returned, he walked back inside and went to the room he'd reserved for himself. They were safe for the moment, and Erin knew the surrounding area. He could afford to let his mind wander while he figured out what to do. Janice needed to have the proof she'd given to the FTC taken to the appropriate authorities. But Manchester needed to be stopped, as well. Situations like this always turned sour when the police got involved. Most men like Manchester had an informant in local and federal law enforcement agencies. Nathan knew that was why Erin was so vague with Jerald the night before.

One man could help them. Nathan glared at the ceiling of the small house and admitted the truth. He didn't want to see Christopher Chance any more than he wanted to see Templeton right now. But he needed some way to clear this situation so that he could handle Erin. If he took the strain of Janice's protection from Erin's shoulders. . . .

Shaking his head, Nathan rolled onto his side and ignored the slammed door as Erin returned to the house. He had no choice in the matter. He didn't have the contacts that Chance and his team did. He _needed_ to go to Chance. He couldn't sugarcoat this and say it was for Erin. It was for him, for what he'd come to hope was his future, and for the possibility that he could, in fact, redeem himself.

~TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Erin stormed down the path to the stream that trickled through Hondo Valley. She'd been out here once, helping Antonio that time. The place brought back good memories, and she'd hoped to carry more good memories away. It didn't look like she'd get that chance.

Nathan was a traitor.

That revelation hung over her head as she tried to breathe. What did she do with that? She was a US Marshal, for goodness's sake! She _arrested_ men like him! He shouldn't be in that house doing whatever he'd found to occupy himself. He should be in handcuffs, headed back to Britain for trial!

Even as she thought that, part of her cringed at the idea. If Nathan returned to Britain, where would that leave her? Who would hold her at the end of a horrible day? Who would inspire her to take care of herself? Who would make her laugh with a simple expression? Who would. . . .?

Erin sighed and rubbed her forehead. She was tired and angry. The exhaustion from working an entire day yesterday, followed by Janice's situation, followed by a nine hour drive, followed by Nathan's confession all worked together. She should get some sleep. But she couldn't rest with this thing between them. Not really. She'd always said she wanted to have no regrets if she and Nathan ever continued their relationship. She still believed that.

Is that the way Nathan felt? Had he come clean because he knew she'd find out eventually? Or had it been, as he said, his love for her that drove him to reveal his past?

She couldn't look at this entire problem as a single issue. It had layers, and she had to peel away the layers to solve the problem. Her pragmatic mind wanted nothing more than to begin right then. She was angry, hurt, betrayed, shocked, and disappointed. Her anger and betrayal came from years as a Marshal, hunting down men who did such things and putting them behind bars. The hurt and disappointment came from the woman deep inside who hoped for a lifetime with him. The shock came from the realization that she really didn't know who he was.

They needed to talk, and she knew it. But she couldn't force herself to leave this spot until she could talk about it without yelling, screaming, cursing, or otherwise attacking him. Her instincts to arrest him on the spot had sent her down the path. The pain hadn't hit until now.

Sitting down, Erin stared at the meager trickle and let her tears flow. They stung her injured face, but she refused to wipe them away. The sting felt good in a sick way, and she knew she wanted something else to hold her focus rather than Nathan.

What kind of man plotted to kill the future queen of England? Erin had followed the news of Princess Victoria's marriage to Prince Tony, had watched the news coverage of the wedding, had rolled her eyes at people in the States who went crazy over the woman's wedding. Secretly, however, she'd wanted to believe that she could have that same fairytale story, that same kind of love. And she'd hoped to find it with Nathan.

Nathan. She didn't even know what to call him. Did he prefer "Nathan," or should she use "Richard?" Of course, Janice knew nothing of this, and Erin wouldn't compromise her safety by telling her. But it confused the issue even more. He'd lied about his _name_ and his past. He'd lied about _everything_!

She sat at the stream for a long time, these thoughts racing around in her head, the topics jumbling up on top of one another. The sun beat down on her and reminded her of the hot day when she'd chased that gangbanger down the canal. It seemed like such a long time ago now. Had it only happened last week?

Erin pushed to her feet when she started drifting. She was so tired that she staggered on the way back to the house. No one sat in either of the rocking chairs on the back porch, and everything was quiet inside. Erin closed the door and stared down the hallway. There was only one bathroom, which would make things interesting.

Realizing that she needed a nap more than she needed a shower, Erin entered the small bedroom Nathan had reserved for her. They'd both agreed that Janice could have the largest room. It would make the woman more comfortable in her confinement. But Nathan had deliberately taken the tiny bedroom that barely fit a twin bed and dresser. Erin shook her head. Even when she treated him horribly, he showed that he loved her.

Rest eluded her, but she managed to shut off her thoughts for a few moments. Every creak in the house, every bird call out her window, and everything she'd considered in the last few hours conspired to keep her from truly resting. Erin wearily rose and headed back to the main living area of the home. The kitchen included a peninsula that doubled as a breakfast bar, much like her apartment back in Dallas. She could see the entire home from there and figured she might as well do what she could to make things welcoming for Janice when the other woman woke from her nap.

Finally, Nathan appeared. He stood in the hallway, looking completely composed and a lot like he hadn't slept as he stared at her. He'd shed his suit jacket, opting for a button-down shirt open at the neck and the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The more casual look appealed to her on so many levels, and she realized something as they stared at each other.

She still loved him. That realization almost made her cry as it resounded in her head. She loved this man enough to ignore his past. It would take time and energy on her part, and he would have to prove himself to her. But she _loved_ him. She couldn't turn her back on him.

He walked toward her, his eyes hesitant. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I tried," she said, somewhat coldly. Just realizing that she loved him didn't dull the anger or the memories.

"I'm sorry." He deliberately kept the breakfast bar between them. "Erin, if I could change anything about my time back then, I would. Templeton asked me if he could count on me, and I said yes." He shook his head. "I wish I'd said no."

"You should have."

He never blinked at her rancor. "I'm well aware of that." He shook his head. "I never told you what Manchester said to me."

"No, you didn't."

"He asked me, 'Can I count on you, Mr. Nathan?'" He met her eyes. "The _exact_ same words that Templeton used. I know what happened the last time I said yes, so I told Manchester that I would 'resolve the situation.' Erin, I am so terribly sorry to drag you into this."

"I was already dragged into it before you got those orders." She blew out an explosive breath. "Nathan, do you realize that, by my relationship with you, I am breaking I-don't-even-want-to-think-about-how-many federal laws? If my work situation wasn't precarious enough with Elizabeth about to be my step-mother, you've just made it even worse. I could lose my _job_ because I inadvertently aided and abetted a criminal!"

He sighed deeply. "Erin. Just. . . ." He shook his head. "I can talk to you all day long, but it won't make a bloody bit of difference to you. I needed your help with Janice, otherwise I would have told you in a much different setting and situation. Just help me keep her safe, and then you can arrest me and extradite me back to England. If it's what you want, then I will leave. _After_ Janice is safe."

Erin stared at him, seeing the way those words affected him. He really would let her send him back to England, back to the people who would likely execute him for his crime. Could she even handle that? "Look, I don't know what I'm going to do right now. Quite honestly, we left Dallas before I really thought things through. I couldn't go to any of the local or federal cops there because Manchester may have an inside man. But I just don't see how you and I can keep her safe by ourselves. Not if we intend to prove that Manchester's funding overseas terrorism."

"We can't." Nathan slipped onto a stool as she turned back to the stove. She'd deliberately chosen this topic, knowing that practical matters were easier to discuss than emotional ones. "That's another thing I need to talk to you about. There is someone who can help, but he's not exactly above board."

"What does that mean?" She glanced at him, seeing the mask that had descended over his features. Her heart sank. He'd taken his cue from her and had retreated behind the same cool exterior he'd worn before they really came to know one another.

He pressed his lips together, almost revealing the dimples she still found irresistible. "His name is Christopher Chance. He's the man that Victoria hired to stop Templeton's plot against her. He nearly killed me."

Erin dropped the spatula she'd been using to saute onions and bell pepper. "He _what_?"

"At the museum, we tried to stop him and kill Victoria before she could get to the queen." He chuckled, but it held no humor. "He pinned me under a lift, broke my tailbone, cracked my leg, and left me with a hip injury that still aches when it rains. But he's the only one who can help us right now. His team doesn't deal with the red tape that law enforcement does, and they don't have the same bureaucracy." He waited until she'd rinsed the spatula and set it aside. "Erin, I'm leaving tonight to go find him."

She stared at his face. He was leaving her alone? Now? She understood that she needed the time to absorb what he'd told her, but staying here, with Janice, was never part of her original plan. "I see." She drew in a deep breath, held it for three counts, and then blew it out slowly. "You really think he'll help us? You?"

Nathan shrugged. "I don't know. But it's worth a shot."

Janice chose that moment to appear, and Erin returned to cooking dinner. Conversation was stilted, at best, but she could do nothing about it. Janice asked Nathan about his time in England, and he humored her with stories from his childhood. The same stories he'd told Erin during those wonderful evenings they'd shared. She served the meal and pushed the food around on her plate, barely holding on to her tears. She was one woman. She didn't have the resources to keep Janice safe and still cope with this latest shock. She needed help.

Late that night, Nathan carried a suitcase to the front door of the house. Arrangements had been made with the foreman of the ranch to get Erin and Janice back to their vehicle after Nathan's flight. He looked every inch the head of security she knew him to be: black suit, white shirt, black tie. But his eyes lingered on her for a moment, and she knew. _He may not come back!_

Rather than thinking things through, Erin walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his suit coat, and pulled him into a kiss. They'd not shared anything incredibly intense to date, but she wanted him to know how she felt about him even if things didn't work out. She wanted him to realize that she wouldn't walk away from this relationship with her heart intact.

Nathan's lips moved on hers, and he took control of the kiss. His arms went around her waist, and he held her as if he'd never see her again. Which might be the case. Erin refused to think about it right now and lost herself in the sensations and desperation. Had they been alone, Nathan might have allowed this to escalate into something a lot more physical. But Janice watched from the door of her bedroom, and Erin felt his restraint. By the time he pulled back, both of them breathed heavily and needed a cold shower.

No further words were said as he walked out the door.

~oOo~

**San Francisco, CA**

Nathan left the elevator and looked around. The warehouse-like office had lots of glass, lots of wood, and a few private rooms. A state-of-the-art computer system had been installed, and he had spotted several different hidden cameras on his way up.

No one was in sight. That, alone, told him everything he'd need to know about his encounter with Christopher Chance. The man likely had plans to shoot him the first opportunity he got. Nathan blinked eyes gritty from lack of sleep and took a few more steps. _That should get their attention._

A gun cocked in front of him, and he stopped as he stared down the barrel of a .45. He'd deliberately left his own weapons in the glove compartment of his rental car, knowing that these men would shoot first and ask questions when his body hit the ground. A second gun, and then a third, joined the first as the team flanked him.

Christopher Chance stood in front of him, eyes hard behind the firearm he aimed with calm precision. "Well, well, well." He glanced at the other two. "I never thought I'd see you again."

Nathan held up his hands, his suit jacket falling open to reveal his empty shoulder holster. "Nor I, you."

The smallest guy there, a geeky-looking type with glasses, patted him down and did a thorough search for hidden weapons. "He's clean, dude."

The third man, a large black ex-detective, glared. "That don't mean a thing."

Chance smirked. "Oh, I agree with Winston." His smirk vanished. "What are you doin' here?"

Nathan opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by feminine laughter and the sound of high heels clattering on the tile floor. He expected Chance and Winston to hide the weapons and was surprised when they didn't blink. Rather than turning his back on a man with a gun, Nathan relied on his hearing to tell him what he needed to know.

The women stopped walking, and one of them gasped. "What is going on here, Mr. Chance?"

That voice. . . ._ No bloody way_, he thought. Taking a chance, he glanced over his shoulder. A woman with chin-length curly hair stared, her expensive clothing and jewelry taking him right back to England. Behind her, a younger, lithe woman grinned childishly. He scowled. "Mrs. Pucci?"

"Mr. Nathan." She walked forward, her poise as lovely as ever. "I never expected to see you in San Francisco."

Rather than repeating himself, he drew himself to his full height. "I didn't know you knew these men."

"These men," she said as she clasped her hands in front of her, "work for me."

Winston rolled his eyes, and Chance shrugged as if to say, "Unfortunately."

Nathan turned back to Ilsa Pucci. He hadn't seen her since before Victoria met Tony. She and her husband had shared dinner with the royal family, a result of their impressive wealth. They weren't incredibly chummy with the royal family, but they made the social circles. The last he heard, the Puccis were doing well. What was she doing in San Francisco? Had someone tried to kill her, hence the reason Chance worked for her?

Clearly seeing his speculative look, she waved a hand. "Oh, don't worry. It's nothing like what happened with Victoria." She narrowed her eyes as if telling him that she knew exactly what he'd done. "This is my company."

Nathan wondered what Marshall Pucci, her husband, thought about that.

Chance captured his attention and prevented him from asking the question. "What do you want, Nathan?"

He wanted to stutter, to react. But he couldn't. Janice's life depended on it. _Erin's_ life depended on it. He met Ilsa's eyes again. "I'm here to hire you."

"Wait." Chance looked from Nathan to Ilsa and back. "What?"

~TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** And, once again, my Saturday got so crazy that I plumb forgot to post. As a result, I've decided to post daily until all the chapters are up. Please forgive the delay. Also, I received a couple comments from different sources about the death penalty in England. You are right. England has no death penalty. However, I left the comment in there because I was trying to show Erin's emotional thoughts right after Nathan's confession. I apologize for the confusion. :) As always, enjoy! ~lg

~oOo~

Erin paced in front of the window, gnawing on her right thumbnail as she thought. She'd never been given to worry, nor had she been given to biting her fingernails. But this situation had turned her into a complete mess.

Nathan had been gone for over twenty-four hours. He hadn't given her a time that he would return, but she'd hoped to at least _hear_ from him before now. Since he'd left, she'd had plenty of time to herself to think about what she wanted to do.

In a way, she was glad she had taken that leave of absence. She didn't want to imagine how stressed she'd be if she had to go to work daily while working through the truth of what he'd done. No, it was better that she be tucked away somewhere so that she didn't make the foolish decision to turn Nathan in based on her own anger.

But she really should turn him over to the authorities. Her duty as a member of law enforcement constrained her to follow the letter of the law. But what about Nathan? Where did he fall in all of that? He wasn't the same man as before, and she knew it. Just his decision to go to Christopher Chance told her that, as did his willingness to walk away. She liked to think that she knew the _real_ Nathan, not the one who had allowed Templeton—whoever he was—to influence him. Live and learn. It had always been her motto. Could she apply it in this situation? After all, Nathan had not violated any US laws in the time he'd been in the States.

Other than using a false name and obtaining employment and information with that false name.

Erin nearly kicked the shoes next to the front door. She was tired, angry, hurt, confused, and so tense that her entire back and neck ached. She'd tried to sleep the night before but had been unable to truly rest. When she got back to Dallas, she was going to find a good masseuse and day spa. _Then_, she'd return to her job, her life, and whatever was left to her after these cards fell where they would.

"Hey." Janice's soft voice broke through her haze. The other woman held out a glass of iced tea. "You should relax."

"I know." Erin accepted the tea.

"This is about Nathan, isn't it?" Janice's sly smile irritated Erin.

"And if it's not?"

"Oh, it's about him." Janice grabbed her own glass of tea and watched her return to pacing. "If it wasn't about him, you probably wouldn't be pacing in front of the window like that, tensing every time you hear a car on the highway. You also wouldn't be checking your watch every five minutes."

Erin looked up from where she'd been doing exactly that. "If you haven't noticed, I'm out here, alone, with you."

"And there's plenty of guns in this house to arm a small militia." Janice shrugged. "From what Nathan indicated, you're too good of a Marshal to let our current situation get you so worked up."

"From what Nathan _indicated_?"

"Well, he's Rockwood's head of daytime security for a reason." Janice shrugged. "He's also Manchester's go-to guy when there's a security need. That says a lot about his skills and past. So, by putting his trust in you—not to mention that smoking _hot_ kiss the two of you shared just before he left—he tells me that you're pretty good at what you do. He wouldn't trust you otherwise."

Erin stared at her. "What did you overhear yesterday?"

"Nothing." Janice rubbed her eyes. "I saw that bed and collapsed into a coma."

Erin winced, this time in irritation that she'd forgotten all about Rosalee.

Janice saw it. "What did I say?"

"Nothing." Erin tried to wave a hand and remembered that she was still holding a glass of tea. "A good friend is in a coma, and doctor's don't think she'll wake up."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." Erin decided that thinking about Nathan was better than worrying over who would watch out for Rosalee and her baby. "What if I told you that Nathan Gleeson wasn't his real name?"

Janice shrugged again. "What about it?" She held up a hand to stall Erin's tirade. "Of course that's a big thing. Especially for you, since you're in love with the man. But, seriously, ask yourself. If he never returned, would you care whether his real name was Nathan Gleeson or SpongeBob?"

Erin lifted one shoulder, not really wanting to answer that.

"You wouldn't," Janice continued. "Because you _care_. You love the man, and that's what matters. Based on what I saw yesterday, he's allowed you so far under his skin that whatever secrets he's holding had to come out because he cares that much about you. Question is, do you care about him the same way?"

"Of course I do!"

"I don't think so." Janice straightened. "You like to think you do, but you don't. Not where it really counts."

"And where does it really count?"

"Forgiveness." Janice walked around the breakfast bar and slowly settled into the couch. "Look, I know what I'm talking about. A long time ago, I fell in love with a guy from a totally different town than me. He didn't know that I'd turned tricks when I was a teen. That I'd lived on the street in a day and age where girls who did that weren't applauded or ignored. We were ridiculed. I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and turned my life around.

"When I told him, he walked out of the house." Janice shook her head. "I thought I'd lost him forever. Then, three days later, he came back. Said it didn't matter, that he loved me, that he would always love me, that he wanted to live the rest of his life with me. I didn't know what to do with myself. I cried. I screamed. I went days without sleep trying to figure it out. And then, it hit me. He really _loved_ me. Enough to ignore the past. Enough to know I wasn't that girl anymore. Enough to see me for what I _could be_, not for what I'd been."

Erin glared. "That sounded rehearsed."

"I speak with teen girls in pregnancy crisis centers and the like." Janice grinned. "And I've been watching you for the last day."

Erin let out a deep breath and dropped into the only other chair in the living room. The melting ice in her glass clinked against the side, and she took a drink of the tea. It tasted so good that she took another one. As she did, her mind whirled.

Did she love Nathan enough to ignore what he'd done? "You don't understand, Janice. I'm a US Marshal. My _job_ is returning people like him to their countries to stand trial. If I _knowingly_ cover this up and return to work like nothing ever happened, I can be tried for aiding and abetting a criminal. I could be charged with conspiracy after the fact. So many things could go wrong."

"Yeah, but you'd be doing the right thing, then."

"Would it be?" Erin frowned. "What is the right thing in this case? The right thing for my heart is to ignore this and go on loving Nathan. The right thing for my job is to turn him over to the police. The right thing for our relationship is to work through this. I _realize_ people change, and I can see where he's not the same guy. But that doesn't excuse past actions. I have to think about more than just my relationship."

"Erin, tell me about Nathan."

Erin blinked. She'd not expected that request. "Uh. . .he's my neighbor. Well, obviously he's more than a neighbor. But that's how we met."

"I figured it was something like that." Janice smiled slightly. "Tell me about _him_. What is _he_ like?"

Erin struggled with that response. In her world, actions defined everything. Who a person was told everyone what they needed to know about him or her. It explained why she worked so hard to make sure she seemed all put together. Nathan had gotten under that, had seen the mess her life really was, and still wanted to know her. Her face heated as she thought back to what he'd said after that hail bomb destroyed her window. _I like you, Erin. Not just what you can offer me. All of you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your fire when you're irritated. Your willingness to just work and not worry about the results. How you care about Rosalee. Everything._ "He's. . . ."

Janice's smile grew bigger. "You have your answer." Then, she shrugged. "Well, not the one about your job, but the one about what Nathan really is to you."

She decided to turn the tables. "What about this guy you told me about?"

Janice's face fell. "He died. Three weeks before our wedding." She pushed off the couch and walked into her bedroom, leaving Erin feeling like a heel. But she returned with her wallet and pulled out a twenty-year-old snapshot. Erin stared into sparkling green eyes and a smile that lit up the small area of the paper. His curly blond hair flopped forward into his face. Janice pointed slightly. "Don't let this thing with Nathan go just because you're angry. You'll live to regret it."

Erin handed the picture back to Janice and allowed her words to seep into her mind. She was still hurt and confused, but the anger had drained away. Seeing the lingering grief on Janice's face, something that would never go away, really impacted her. Could she even _live_ knowing that her actions, while completely legal, led to Nathan's imprisonment as a traitor? Now that she'd calmed down, she remembered hearing that England didn't have the death penalty. But that didn't matter. Could she truly accept a life without Nathan while he suffered his punishment and not be affected by it?

The gravel outside crunched, destroying the moment. Erin's hand went to her sidearm, and she grabbed Janice's shoulder. Hauling the older woman to her feet, she pushed her down the hall. "Into the bathroom. Stay there until I give the signal."

"And what is the signal?" Janice asked as she headed down the hall.

"You'll know it." Erin ducked into the hallway and held her weapon in a typical gunman's hold. Peeking around the corner, she watched the front door open, and Nathan stepped through. Relief poured through her body, and she let out a deep breath as she stepped around the corner, still holding the firearm. Nathan saw her and gave her a restrained smile, clearly unsure of his reception. At that moment, Erin didn't care. She walked forward and right into his arms, ignoring the other four people in the room and the fact that she still held a loaded weapon. "I missed you," she whispered.

As he held her, Nathan nodded. "I noticed."

One of the newcomers, a man with hair to his chin and round, spectacle-looking glasses, grinned. "I don't get greeted like this when I come home."

The big black man glared at him. "And don't expect that to change."

"Oh, come on," said the new woman. "Give them a few minutes."

Erin's face started heating before Nathan released her. She took a few steps backward and hollered down the hall. "All clear!"

A tall man with a square face watched every move she made as she holstered her weapon. Then, he turned to Nathan. "You brought in a fed?"

Erin's mouth flapped, but Nathan simply grinned. "She's the _only_ person I'd trust with this situation."

"Clearly." The guy held out his hand. "Christopher Chance."

"Erin Mitchell, US Marshal." She nearly snickered at the varied reactions. "Look, you're safe here. I'm not even technically on duty."

"Yeah, but you have your service weapon," Chance pointed out.

"Actually, this is my personal weapon." She eyed Nathan. "I'd offer to show you my other weapons, but I think Nathan might have a problem with that."

The guy with glasses looked at Nathan, suitably impressed. "Dude, where'd you find her?"

"Ah. . .she was my neighbor." Nathan's eyes sparkled as he looked at her, but his tone was formal. "Gentlemen, behind Erin is the reason we're here. Janice Christensen."

Chance and the others shook Janice's hand as Erin stepped toward the kitchen. She listened to introductions, her eyebrows rising when she heard the guy with glasses give his name. Even _she'd_ heard of Guerrero. And she'd heard that he'd changed, turned to the light side even if he still operated outside the law. Winston, the big black man, clearly enjoyed the banter, and the woman, Ames, kept grinning at Nathan.

Pouring glasses of iced tea for everyone, Erin shook her head. Based on this diverse group, this was about to be one _crazy_ op if there ever was one!

~oOo~

Late that evening, Erin slipped onto the back porch to get some room. Ames had taken over right away, talking and chatting with Janice while adding her two cents into the conversation. Nathan introduced everyone, and Winston rolled his eyes every time Ames opened her mouth. Guerrero dodged from window to window, ensuring their safety with a carelessness that spoke of years on the opposite side of the law.

Now, Erin just needed space. The responsibility for Janice's safety no longer rested solely on her shoulders, and the tension from earlier in the evening had faded into a dull ache in her back. She held a glass of tea, wishing for something a bit stronger, and listened to the quiet. Hondo Valley did quiet like nowhere else. The stars were brighter here, and the air crisper. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend for a little while that she was simply on vacation with Nathan.

"Hey, you okay with some company?" Winston's question startled her, and she bobbled her tea glass. "Sorry 'bout that." He stood in the doorway, his large form absorbing light.

She waved him over, satisfied that she'd only spilled a few drops. "I'd love some company."

He walked to stand beside her and looked up. "Yeah, we don't have stars like that in San Francisco."

"We don't have them in Dallas, either."

He eyed her. "You're wonderin' how you can keep workin' with Nathan knowin' what he's done."

She turned to face him. "Yeah, I am. But why do you care?"

"I don't." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "But there's a man inside who is head-over-heels about you. _He_ might."

Erin barely avoided chewing on her thumbnail again. "Look, Mr. Winston, I appreciate that you want to help your friend, but. . . ."

"Oh, he ain't a friend of mine." Winston shook his head. "And it's just 'Winston.' No 'Mister' or anything like that."

"Okay." Erin sipped her tea, feeling very awkward all of a sudden.

"Listen, you're wonderin' how you can keep on with your relationship." He shrugged. "Professionally speaking, I _know_ what you're goin' through."

"Really?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah." He turned back to staring at the stars while letting out a deep breath. "How do you think I felt when I started workin' with Chance?"

"How is that any different?"

"You don't know who Chance was."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Yes, it does." Winston faced her, his hands on his hips. "When I met Chance, he was an assassin trying to kill a witness to a murder. Turns out, he went rogue, trying to save said witness and losing her in the process. _That's _when he really changed. But I was a detective before that. I still had to work through whether I was gonna turn him over to the police department or not. I wound up givin' him a job."

"Are you telling me to ignore what I'm trained to do."

"Heck, no." He moved to enter the house. "I'm tellin' you that the right thing may not be as clear-cut as the law likes to make it out to be."

"He's a traitor, Winston." Erin's sharp comment stopped Winston's retreat. "He tried to kill the _Princess of Wales_, for crying out loud!"

"Yeah, I know. I was there." Winston shrugged with his face. "And Chance tried to kill a lot more people than that. And succeeded."

She blinked. And really thought about that, giving Winston the chance to escape back inside. She knew she needed to talk to Nathan, but she wanted all of this worked out before she did. But what if the way to work it out was to talk to Nathan and get everything straight _with_ him?

Erin wished she had the answer.

~TBC


	19. Chapter 19

"Sir." The unapologetic voice brought Bryant out of his thoughts. He'd been trying to meditate, to prepare himself for the coming days and weeks. His assignment to head overseas and provide "security" for some shipments worried him. Not enough to refuse the assignment. Just enough for him to desire a little time alone, without guns and fighters around him. Now, he opened his eyes and glared at the scrawny, arrogant personal assistant Tate insisted on keeping around. The kid smirked. "Tate wants you."

"Of course he does," Bryant murmured as he unfolded his legs from the lotus position. He'd been sitting like that for an hour while he found some semblance of peace in the half-awake, half-asleep haze of his mind. He didn't really believe that much in the power of meditation, but he used it as a way to keep people away when he wanted solitude. Which had happened a lot recently.

Bryant slipped into man-sandals, as he called them, and padded down the corridor. This complex wasn't fancy, but it was large. The warehouses linked together with a variety of breezeways and walkways that formed a veritable maze. Men and women in various states of dress moved between the warehouses, carrying anything from food to knives to grenade launchers.

Reaching Tate's door, he knocked and waited. His new boss wasn't picky about his indiscretion at Rockwood. In fact, he'd said that Manchester recommended him. Bryant wasn't sure what to think about that, but he knew he hated Nathan Gleeson for what he'd done. By firing him, he'd destroyed his reputation, something that Bryant had been raised to value above all else. The one time he could remember ever tarnishing his father's reputation had ended with bruises along his back. He'd learned his lesson well.

Tate yelled for him to enter, and Bryant let a mask slip over his features as he walked through the door. Tate wasn't a man to be taken lightly, and his suave appearance kept the ladies happy and the men on edge. Bryant still hadn't brought his girl here because of Tate's reputation of being a womanizer.

Hard blue eyes glared at him. "You've been reassigned."

Bryant took the news without blinking an eye. "Where?"

Tate handed him a map. "Hondo Valley, New Mexico."

Bryant looked up suddenly. He'd come from New Mexico and knew exactly where that was. "Why?"

"Well, among other things, your ex-boss is there."

"Gleeson?"

Tate smiled, looking almost like a shark that caught the scent of blood. "Yes, as is his girlfriend and the woman that Manchester wants dead." A photo slid across the desk. "Janice Christensen, accountant for Rockwood Engineering. She has information that we cannot allow to get to the feds. Do I make myself clear?"

"And Gleeson?"

"Gleeson's expendable, as is his girl." Tate smiled. "Go to New Mexico. Kill Christensen—and whomever else you wish—and bring proof."

Bryant nodded once. "One more question. How did you find out about this?"

Tate's eyes moved to somewhere behind him, and Bryant turned to see a slim, dark-haired woman saunter over, her sapphire-blue bandage dress that barely covered her behind drawing attention away from her somewhat plain face. Tate let a hand slide around her waist as she bent to kiss his cheek, giving Bryant a nice view of her. . .assets. . .in the process. "A time-tested combination of alcohol and a beautiful woman. Gleeson's girl is a US Marshal, so be careful."

Bryant acknowledged that with a nod and left the office, not really wanting to see what Tate would do with that girl. He'd seen her before, but he couldn't place her. Something about that face. . . .His eyes widened. _So this is what happened to Satters_, he thought as he headed for his quarters to make plans. Later that night, he grinned. Maybe, in the process of destroying Nathan Gleeson, he could make the man suffer.

That thought sent him into a nice, peaceful sleep for the first time in weeks.

~oOo~

Ten minutes after Winston left her alone, Nathan joined Erin on the porch. She glanced at him, admiring the way the moonlight played off his profile even as her heart squeezed. How did she figure out the conundrum in which she'd landed? If she did the right thing for her, she lost her job. If she did the right thing for her job, she broke her own heart.

Nathan spoke first. "We should talk."

"I agree." She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not even sure where to start."

"I am." He faced her. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Her eyebrows rose, and she folded her arms over her chest as she turned to glare at him. "You lied about _everything_, Nathan. Richard. Whatever. Point is I don't even know who you are. I mean, I want to think I know you, that I've seen the real you. But that doesn't matter. Your name is your identity. It's what makes up who you are, and you lied about that."

"I know, and I'm sorry." He walked toward her and took her by her shoulders, holding her gently until she looked him in the eye. "I wish I could tell you that I could make it up to you, but I can't. I can't even promise that this won't come up again. But you _must_ understand that I love you, and I didn't do this to you intentionally."

"Okay, then what was it? Because you don't _unintentionally_ fall in love with someone." _Do you?_ she asked silently.

"It was. . . helping a neighbor. Being friendly. Whatever you want to call it." He shrugged. "I had already decided to tell you all of this, but circumstances pushed me to do it sooner than I'd anticipated."

"So when were you gonna tell me?"

He opened and closed his mouth several times without answering her.

Erin pulled out of his grasp and walked a few steps away from him. She kept her back to him for a few moments while she pulled herself together. Winston's words about Chance and his profession before becoming the person he was now floated through her head. For those few moments, she actually felt like someone understood her. She shook her head, keeping her back turned to Nathan. "There's so much I don't even know about you."

"I know." He seemed rather calm for the situation. "I _was_ born and raised in Liverpool. My father abandoned us when I was young, leaving my mother and me when I was three. I grew up as the child without a father, and my mum always worked to make ends meet. In school, I met a girl from the right family. She was the one every boy wanted to be with. And she chose me. But, around our graduation from what you Americans consider high school, she got pregnant. By me."

Erin turned and eyed him. "You're telling me you're a _father_? That you have a kid living back in England."

"No." The way he said the word, clipped and followed by a slight grimace, spoke of incredible heartache. "She miscarried two months after we found out. In that time, I had decided to marry her. I loved her, or so I thought."

"Wait." Erin raised a hand, her mind still whirling. "Why are you telling me all of this? Especially now?"

"Because, if we're to survive this situation, you need to trust me. You need to know who Richard Nathan Gleeson really is." He shook his head slightly. "See, that's what isn't on record. My mother legally changed my name, dropping 'Gleeson' when I was five. The court records were sealed, and the royal family didn't make a huge issue out of it. I became Richard Nathan, and the Gleeson name faded into the shadows. Why I've managed to use it for so long is beyond me."

She let out a deep breath. "So, you're telling me that your name really is Nathan Gleeson. Which one is it? Either you are or you aren't."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm the man you've known for the last several months." He reached out and managed to snag her hands. "I'm the one who helped you repair that bloody window. I'm the one who moved a couch into your living room, the one you saw cursing at his door when his hands were bandaged, the one who shared tea with you when you were so upset you couldn't see straight. I'm the one who called you a harlot."

She actually smiled at that memory. "I had it coming."

"You did." He shrugged. "You've seen the real me without knowing my full name. How is that any different than me not knowing your middle name?"

"Maybe if you'd explained that with your little confession a day ago, I might have understood!" Erin couldn't keep the anger from bubbling up inside. "As it is, I can't just make a decision for. . ._us_. . .without considering my career! I'm already having issues with Elizabeth marrying my father. She's a _federal_ _judge_, for crying out loud! Having her in my family is bringing up all kinds of conflicts with my schedule. Can you imagine what would happen if Jerald found out who you really are and what you've done? My career would be toast, and we'd never see each other again. You'd be taken back to England, and I'd be put in jail. _That's _what's at stake, here, Nathan. It's not just about you and me!"

He nodded again. "I know."

"So this little confession kick you're on is. . .What? You're way of convincing me?"

He licked his lips. "It's my way of letting you see who I am underneath."

Erin almost rolled her eyes at him, but the back door opened before she could say anything. Guerrero stepped outside. "Hey, you two love birds done? We've got a plan."

Nathan let go of her hands and put a hand on her back as she followed Guerrero back inside. Erin felt her face heat as she saw the expressions on everyone's faces, but no one commented.

Chance sat with is elbows on his knees. "Okay, here's the plan." He pointed to Erin. "You and Nathan are gonna get Janice to New York and your step-mom. The rest of us are going after Manchester."

Erin raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

"Yeah." Chance nodded and met her eyes. "Why? Do you have a better plan?"

"Manchester's so far entrenched that you can't go directly to him."

"Which is why you're taking Janice and Nathan to New York." Winston sat back in his chair, his pointed look telling Erin exactly what he thought about the whole situation. He didn't like it, but he liked that she didn't trust Nathan a lot less. "Janice has the evidence, and a federal judge will be able to deal with that evidence a lot easier. _We're _going after Manchester as soon as we figure out who he's hired to do his dirty work."

All eyes turned to Nathan, who shrugged. "I have no idea."

Winston narrowed his eyes. "You're tellin' me that a guy like you didn't know what Manchester was into?"

Nathan held his stare, not backing down. "For the last two years, I have done my best to become a law-abiding citizen of this country. Believe what you may about me, I was caught off guard by this entire situation as much as any of you muppets. Now, the problem isn't _what_ to do so much as _how_ to do it."

Guerrero, who had been silent up until now, looked up from the laptop he'd been using. "I have three tickets for a first-class flight from El Paso to La Guardia. You'll layover in Chicago for about an hour."

Chance turned to stare at him. "That fast?"

"Dude, it's me." Guerrero held out his hands.

Erin nodded once. "Okay. When do those flights depart?"

"Three-thirty in the afternoon, which leaves. . . ." He checked his watch. ". . . .nine-and-a-half hours for you to get some sleep."

Erin blinked at him. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Chance shook his head at her. "You were left here to watch Janice alone for twenty-four hours. I know what that's like, and it's not an easy situation. That's on top of whatever your personal crisis has been. We've got security for the evening. Get some rest."

Erin didn't glance at Nathan, knowing he'd likely agree with Chance. Instead, she chose to give in gracefully. "Okay."

"Good." Chance turned to Guerrero. "Where are we with Manchester's files?"

"Almost there, dude." Guerrero grinned at Janice, who sat in the kitchen with Ames. "You've got some pretty decent security on your computer."

"Wait." Nathan held up his hand. "You're _hacking_ Janice's computer?"

"We gotta get those files somehow." Guerrero shrugged. "They're gonna be watching her home. If I can get the suspicious files, I might be able to match Manchester's money trail to a specific mercenary company. If that's how he's doing things, I should also be able to figure out exactly who he's funded overseas."

Winston, Chance, and Nathan went on to discuss security concerns for the evening, leaving Erin to either join Ames and Janice or go get some rest. She chose the latter, knowing that she hadn't even showered in the last forty-eight hours. Carrying her toiletries into the bathroom, she locked the door behind her, started the hot water, and let it pound on her aching back.

She needed to figure out what to do about Nathan. The longer she thought about it, the more she realized that she likely did know the real him. Oh, he'd told some whoppers in their time together, but they'd been based on survival. And her heart had already made its decision. She knew that before he left for San Francisco.

Winston and Chance knew it, too. Otherwise they wouldn't have insisted that she travel to New York with Nathan. While she understood their intentions, she wished they'd just leave well-enough alone. She could figure out what to do with her boyfriend's troublesome past after they got Janice to Elizabeth's office.

Elizabeth. Erin stopped washing her hair and blinked at the shampoo on her hands. Why hadn't she thought of that before? She only needed to get to New York in order to work everything out. Elizabeth would know the best course of action for her to take, and it would be both legal and a decision with which she could live.

But what if Elizabeth's advice was to extradite Nathan back to England? Did they even have the death penalty over there? She wasn't sure, but she didn't know if she could handle knowing that Nathan had been locked up for the remainder of his natural life.

Shaking her head at herself, Erin rinsed her hair and climbed from the shower. After combing her hair and donning her pajamas, she trudged to bed. Her complicated life had just gotten more complicated. But, out of it all, she realized that she wanted Nathan around for the rest of it. Time would tell exactly how well that would work out.

She fell asleep sometime between worrying about Nathan being extradited and fantasizing about building a life with him. She woke up to a bullet through a window and a scream from Janice's room.

~TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Erin rolled from the bed, quickly untangling her legs from the sheets as she pulled her sidearm from under the pillow. Last night, she'd been so thankful for the extra help that she'd nearly forgotten that these men were, technically, criminals. Now, however, she ignored that in favor of getting to Janice.

That woman screamed again as another bullet shattered more glass, this time the window near Erin. She huddled as the glass fell, feeling some of it get through the thin shirt she wore. Keeping herself low to avoid getting shot, she ducked out into the hallway.

Chance was already at Janice's door, weapon in hand and aware of everything. Nathan and Guerrero had overturned the couch in the living room and were using it as a shield. Winston was behind Erin, and Ames cowered in the kitchen.

Guerrero looked at Erin. "They know you're here, dude."

"Ya think?" Erin asked sarcastically as another bullet came through yet another window, this one in the rear of the house.

"We're surrounded." Chance's low voice reached Erin's ears. She'd stopped beside him, keeping Janice in the safest part of the house. The hallway was bordered on all four sides by rooms, making it impossible to just shoot through a wall to kill her.

In the chaos, Erin saw Nathan dive for cover as a bullet came too close to him and struggled to breathe. _It's happening again!_ Her mind whirled as he popped up to try and get a bead on the sniper. _It can't happen again! I haven't told him I love him. I haven't done any of the things with him that I wanted to do! I can't lose him!_

In the heat of that moment, Erin understood herself clearly. She _needed_ Nathan more than she needed her job. She would find a way to make this work. She had to.

Guerrero moved, and a bullet chased him. "They're good. There's two, possibly more, snipers out there, and they've probably got infrared scopes on us."

"Which means they can pick us off as we come out of here." Chance swore and looked at Nathan. "When you do something, you do it right."

Nathan didn't respond.

Erin grabbed Janice's arm and forced the frightened woman to meet her eyes. Up until now, Janice had handled the entire situation with aplomb touched here and there by panic. Now, she was completely frozen, totally malleable to what they wanted her to do. Erin waited until she saw some level of recognition in the woman's eyes. "Janice, when they give the signal, we're going out the back. Understand?"

"But isn't there a sniper out there?"

"There's a sniper out front, too." Erin shrugged. "It's six in one hand, half-dozen in the other. Either way, we're dodging a sniper that likely has an infrared scope."

Janice swallowed hard but nodded anyway. Erin turned back to the house. Not a shot had been fired from inside due to the intense suppression fire the snipers had laid down. Erin mentally mapped out their escape route, looking for places that would protect them. Nathan caught her eye and pointed to the area with the rocking chairs. It wouldn't keep the infrared scopes from seeing them, but the shade from the weeds would definitely keep the sniper from getting a bead the old fashioned way. Erin nodded her understanding.

The door flew inward.

Erin flinched and whirled to meet whoever came through. The first black figure fell, the result of a shot from Nathan's gun. More figures stormed the house, and the place became a maelstrom of bullets, shattered glass, a few screams, shouts, and falling debris. Nathan hollered, and Erin found him in the fray. He was looking at her and motioning her out the back door.

She didn't want to do this. She didn't need to do this. She should be able to get out _with_ him, not leave him behind.

"Go!" Chance's voice broke through the noise. "Get her out of here!" He gave Erin's shoulder a shove.

She stopped thinking. She just acted on instinct, dragging Janice past Winston and Ames, past Guerrero and Nathan. She didn't look back as she left the door even though her heart pounded at the thought of leaving Nathan alone. They hadn't cleared the air. What if he didn't survive the evening?

Outside, Janice cowered next to the house as they rounded the corner. Erin glanced up at the stars, knowing that she would never lay eyes on the sniper in this darkness. She just hoped that, if they had infrared scopes, the heat signatures inside would mask the two outside just enough for them to get away.

The SUV that Nathan and Chance returned in loomed out of the darkness, and Erin shoved Janice inside and onto the floorboard. She dove in behind her, hearing a bullet clink off of the rear fender. _This isn't an SUV! It's a tank!_ As she thought that, another bullet hit the back window, splintering it but not breaking it. Keys were in the ignition, almost as if someone knew they'd need it. After a moment's hesitation, she turned the key, hearing it roar to life. More bullets bounced off of the SUV as she backed out of the driveway and floored the gas pedal.

"Don't hit the tires! Don't hit the tires! Don't hit the tires!" Janice's panicked begging made Erin smile. Had she not been experienced with bullets flying her way, she probably would have been saying the same thing. Keeping her head low, she drove away from the house, not relaxing for another ten minutes. When that time passed and no one had followed them, she let out a sigh and nodded for Janice to climb from the floorboard.

She'd left Nathan behind. Erin blinked to clear the tears of frustration from her eyes as she realized that. He'd all but told her to, but it still stung. In all of her turmoil over what to do with the knowledge that he tried to kill the heir apparent to Britain's throne, she still loved him. And she hadn't had the chance to tell him.

It was a very quiet three hours to El Paso.

~oOo~

In the safe house, Nathan stood next to the couch and surveyed the damage. Everything was destroyed. Windows, walls, furniture, dishes, and clothing had been scattered. Erin was gone, as was Janice. Had they even made it out alive? He wanted to figure that out, but he couldn't leave the house. The pot shots, as Erin called them, from the snipers had stopped, leading them to believe the snipers had packed up and walked away.

Stepping over a dead man's arm, Chance met his eyes. "They got out."

Nathan nodded. "I know." He looked around. "I want to know how anyone knew we were here. This was a US Marshal safe house, not on any of their record books, strictly for compromised agents needing to lay low."

Guerrero glanced up at him. "Dude, hate to break it to ya, but _nothing_ is off the books. It's just a matter of knowing how to find it."

Nathan had to admit that he was right. Someone at Erin's office had talked, and he wanted to get his hands on the man—or woman—in the worst possible way. Not only had their position and a woman he'd been protecting been compromised. The lady he loved had been forced to abandon them and head out on her own. He wanted to protect her but realized he now had to depend on her knowledge and experience to keep her safe. She wasn't a member of the royal family, sheltered and protected from birth. Erin was a strong woman, one who knew how to fight and get what she wanted.

"Trust me, dude." Guerrero stopped to put a hand on his shoulder. "She'll be fine."

Nathan hoped that was the case. He wanted her to be able to tell him what he'd seen in her eyes just before she left the house.

~oOo~

Bryant drove quietly, his sniper rifle tucked in the trunk of his car. He'd seen Nathan's woman and the target leaving the house and had ordered his companion to avoid killing them. It wasn't about mercy or that they were women. It was rage, pure and simple. He wanted Nathan to suffer.

To some, the loss of his reputation might seem petty. To Bryant, it was tantamount to taking away everything he owned. _A man is only as good as his name, boy._ His father's voice echoed in his head. He'd allowed Erin to drive away, the GPS tracker he'd hidden on the car clearly broadcasting the women's location. Now, he drove into El Paso International Airport, ready to board a plane to New York.

Shaking his head, Bryant was surprised he'd been able to get past the men in the house. They'd been too confident, he knew. And his intel from Satters gave him a head start. The men inside, while scary in their own right, had trusted that this house wouldn't come up in any investigation. And they'd been right save for one thing. Tate and his men didn't investigate. They didn't intimidate or cajole or seduce. They did the job with whatever was necessary to get the information they needed.

Bryant was proud to be called one of them.

~oOo~

"C'mon, we need to move." Chance snapped his fingers at the safe house door while Guerrero grabbed his laptop. The men had policed as much of their brass as possible, wiped down fingerprints, and grabbed any personal items they could find. Nathan had grabbed Erin's suitcase, barely unpacked and quite easy to move. It wasn't about preserving her personal items for when he was reunited with her. It was about eliminating all traces that they'd been there.

Outside they walked a few miles up the road and found a large black van parked in some brush. It was battered and looked broke down, but Ames ducked under the hood and had the engine running within seconds. Everyone piled into the van, and Guerrero turned the van north.

Chance leaned forward. "Where are we going?"

"Dallas." Guerrero glanced in the rearview mirror. "One or both of the snipers may be following us, and we need to draw them away from Erin and Janice as much as possible. Besides, we'll find our answers in Dallas with Manchester."

Nathan couldn't argue with that logic. "How do you intend to do that?"

Guerrero shrugged. "Satellite, dude. I'll have internet access the entire way. I can hack into his files between here and there and figure out who he's hired."

Nathan admitted that it was a good plan. And he made a mental not to never tick off Guerrero.

~oOo~

Once in the air, Janice kicked back and closed her eyes. Erin could see the tension in the other woman's fists and how she constantly shifted in her seat. She couldn't blame Janice, either. They were in an untenable situation right now, and she wanted to know why.

_No one should have known about that safe house._ That thought circled in her head. The only reason she knew about it was because Antonio took her there once. It had been a bad case, and Antonio saw that she needed time. So she took a week of vacation, and they retreated to the safe house to simply relax. It was a magical time for them, coming right after their break-up and forging the friendship that lasted until his death.

From what Antonio told her, only certain people in the Marshals knew about that safe house. She figured there had to be one per district at the least. Otherwise, how would severely compromised agents get to ground? Since her office was the main HQ for their district, someone in her office must know about it. Jerald? It seemed likely since he coordinated everything that happened in the Dallas-Fort Worth area.

Her mind worked over the problem every which way and still came out to one conclusion: she'd left Nathan. Shaking her head, she wondered how she could be so concerned for him when the Marshals may have had a security breach. She glared at the burn phone Nathan insisted she buy before he left and wished she'd brought her personal cell. Never mind the security threat that posed to Janice. If there'd been a breach, Jerald could have called her.

The phone rang in her hands, the vibration startling her. Glancing up at the flight attendant, Erin punched the Answer button. "Hello?"

"Watch your back." Nathan's terse accent brought a smile to her face. "You may have been compromised."

"Understood." Glancing around, she realized others were watching her. Affecting a relaxed attitude, she smiled. "So, how are you?" she asked in her best "talking to my boyfriend" voice.

"Fine." He lowered his voice. "We're headed out to take care of this, but I want you to be careful."

"I will." When he was silent, she tucked the phone under her chin and pretended to be having an intimate conversation. "Don't worry about me, honey. I'll be fine in this meeting."

"Erin!" Nathan actually growled. "Don't do this to me."

"I gotta go, love. People are starting to get a little upset."

"Oh." He suddenly understood. "Take care."

"Love you, too." There. She'd told him, only it hadn't been the meaningful declaration she wanted. But, if things went south, she'd said the words. "'Bye!"

Hanging up the phone, she smiled apologetically at the people around her even though they simply went back to their reading, movie, or whatever they used to keep themselves busy. But it was more than that. Erin scanned the faces, looking for the one face that stood out. Unfortunately, she didn't see one.

The plane banked on approach to O'Hare in Chicago, and her gut clenched. They were halfway to New York, but everything could go wrong in a single moment. If it did. . . .

~TBC


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** So, **Shadows-of-Realm** called me on the phone on a plane bit of yesterday's chapter. I freely admit that I have flown once in my adult life, and it was a short hop rather than a cross-country flight. And, on that flight, I recall someone using a cell phone. So I apologize for that bit but hope you can suspend belief for just a little while. :) Enjoy today's chapter, and there's only one more after this! ~lg

~oOo~

The hour-long layover in Chicago worried Erin. The pilot had announced it thirty minutes ago, and she hadn't thought much about it until Nathan called. Quite frankly, she'd intended to stay on the plane, in a controlled environment. But, now, with someone possibly after them. . . . Did she stay on the plane? Or did she and Janice go get some food and hopefully draw out whatever assassin had been sent their way?

Another thought occurred to her, and she froze as she buckled her seat belt. What if they got to Elizabeth? Manchester hadn't just been trafficking drugs or laundering money, as severe as those crimes were. He'd been funding international terrorism, providing them with weapons, supplies, and cash to keep their operations running. Men had killed for far less.

By the time the plane had touched down, she had a tension headache, and her back hurt again. She wished for a hot shower to soothe it but knew she'd have to wait a few more hours. Just a little while longer, and she could become an official US Marshal again.

But did she want that? Her personal questions invaded her mind yet again, and she pushed them away. She couldn't afford to be distracted like this, not with everything on the line. And that's what it was. Without Nathan, she probably wouldn't be the same woman. She'd bury herself so far into her work that it would take a stroke from stress or a bad guy's bullet to get her out. And then where would she be?

That particular little truth scared her. She pushed it away and closed her eyes as the flight attendant announced they could exit the plane. Getting distracted now would mean getting killed if this guy had followed them. And, as a trained law enforcement officer, she assumed he had followed her.

"Hey, you okay?" Janice had finally picked up on her tension.

"No." Erin pushed to her feet and led the other woman off the plane. What were they to do? They couldn't just remain where they were, not with their stomachs growling. Breakfast had been a long time ago, and Erin felt rumpled in spite of the nice, new jeans, tank top, and black jacket she wore. She'd had to show her badge and get official permission to bring her firearm, but that hadn't taken very long. Not by way of comparison.

"What is it?" Janice hissed at her as they left the terminal.

Erin shook her head, indicating that they weren't going to talk there. "Just stay close." She headed straight for the nearest bathroom. Once inside, she checked all the stalls and saw that they were empty. "Okay, here's the deal. That was Nathan that called."

"I kinda figured that."

Erin rolled her eyes at Janice's sarcasm. "He thinks we were followed. He doesn't know, yet, how the safe house was compromised, and neither do I. But the safest course of action is to assume that we've been followed."

"Onto the plane?" Janice's voice rose an octave. "But, I thought. . . ."

"So did I." Erin glanced up when another woman came into the bathroom. Lowering her voice, she whispered, "They must have put some kind of GPS we couldn't detect onto the SUV. That's the only way. Then it was just a matter of following us through the terminal."

"But getting on the plane?"

Erin shrugged and showed the edge of her badge. "Air marshal. They do it all the time."

Janice's eyes widened at that. She tried to recover for the other woman but didn't quite succeed. Their unwanted listener left the bathroom, glancing at them with very concerned eyes.

Erin grabbed Janice's shoulders. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna leave this bathroom, act like nothing is wrong, and get something to eat."

"What do you mean act like nothing's wrong?" Janice's voice still hadn't lowered in pitch. "_Everything's_ wrong. Someone out there—someone we don't know—could be trying to _kill_ us."

"Yes, and the best way to draw attention to ourselves is to act like we're scared." Erin gave her a gentle shake. "You can do this!"

"No, I can't!"

"Yes. You. Can." Erin waited, knowing that Janice's survival instinct would kick in sooner or later.

She watched it happen. Janice drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, repeated the process, and nodded. "Let's do this."

"Good." Erin headed for the door and walked out. The tile next to her head splintered.

~oOo~

The warehouse complex where Tate had holed up seemed way too large for the three operatives and two techs in the van. Nathan eyed Chance, knowing that he didn't have a choice, and not liking it. They had planned a surgical strike as a way to get in, get Tate, and get out. Of course, that assumed they didn't get killed.

How was Erin doing? Nathan wasn't normally so distracted on a mission, but this one had higher stakes than anything he'd ever done. After all, he _loved_ Erin. If he lost her, he might as well return to England to stand trial and suffer whatever punishment they gave him.

Pulling his mind away from her violet eyes and blond hair, Nathan finished tightening the Kevlar vest around his waist and double-checked his sidearm. He had plenty of ammunition, a nice benefit of having Guerrero working with him this time. On the trip from New Mexico back to Dallas, Guerrero had traced Manchester's movements and money. Erin and Janice had proof of the funds he'd sent overseas. Guerrero had proof of his payments to Tate's mercenary company. And that proof led to a very interesting list of staff working for Tate.

Including Satters. Nathan's eyes narrowed as he tasted his dislike of that woman. He'd known she was getting off too lightly when she was arrested for breaking and entering. Of course, she had only served two days of her time, but that didn't matter. She obviously found better employment than working at Rockwood.

Thinking of the engineering firm, Nathan shook his head. Of course, Rockwood would be dismantled. He'd be out of a job. If things went well, he may be out of a lot more than a job, but that didn't matter. Right now, surviving this and finding Erin mattered.

When they made it out of this, he was going to sit her down and make her listen while he poured out everything that he'd ever done. It was the only way he could think of to get through to her. He understood why she said everything she said. She was angry and hurt. He'd betrayed her from the moment they met. But he'd been honest. When they met, he'd had no intention of ever falling in love with her.

Chance's voice in his ear, telling him to move in, yanked his attention back to the present. Nathan moved forward and managed to slip into the complex through the barbed wire fence that had yet to be repaired. He shook his head. For a guy who did as high-risk stuff as Tate, he sure took his time on grounds maintenance.

Gunfire erupted from the other side of the complex, and Guerrero swore over their communication channel. Nathan froze and then grinned when Guerrero said, "Big mistake, dude."

More shots reached his ears, and he glanced around. The ground at his feet kicked up dust, and he ducked behind a couple of crates stacked against the wall. A quick glance told him where his attackers were, and he popped up long enough to put a bullet in each of their heads. As they fell, he ducked back down and mentally counted his bullets. He had plenty of clips on his belt, but he decided to make every bullet matter. If he didn't, someone could be left alive to come after him, Erin, Janice, or any of the others. He didn't doubt that Chance could cover his own tail, but he wanted to ensure that Janice and Erin were free from all of this when it ended.

Chance, who had worked his way over to him, rolled behind the crates. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Oh, you know. . . ." Nathan had listened to the other man's team long enough to pick up their light banter.

Chance nodded. "I understand." He picked off two of their guys. "Listen, I saw someone heading for cover in the main building."

"And. . .?" Nathan wondered what this was about.

"It's Manchester."

Nathan's head turned so fast his neck popped. "Manchester?"

"Yeah." Chance took out another attacker as if it was a normal activity.

"He's here?"

Chance nodded again, and Nathan grinned. _This ends. Now._

~oOo~

Erin drew back as civilians screamed and scattered. The gunshot echoed, and she cursed the guy for making such a _stupid_ mistake. As a US Marshal, she could—and would—open fire on him. As would airport security. The news would be down here within a few minutes, trying to get reporters and cameras in to cover the incident. And people would get killed. It was exactly the kind of high-profile attention Manchester and his people did _not_ want.

She shoved Janice down and hustled her back into the bathroom. A few panicked women tried to dive behind her, and she allowed them. A little boy cried for his mother in the middle of the room, and Erin's eyes narrowed. There was _no_ way on God's green earth that she was going to let him get killed because his mother panicked and forgot about him. That mother would likely feel horrible in the end and spend the rest of her life making up for it. But Erin determined that the boy would live to be spoiled.

First things first. She rushed Janice into the furthest stall, adding an extra layer of frightened women. "Stay there! _Don't_ get out!" she told them.

Back at the door, she peeked out into the chaotic scene. Travellers still ran, the boy still screamed, and airport security rushed into the area. One of them caught sight of her and her sidearm and aimed. She snagged her badge from the back pocket of her jeans and held it up, satisfying the guy. Their attacker, somewhere to her left, decided that he wanted airport security out of his way. It gave Erin enough time to dive for the boy. The tile under her feet exploded with bullets, but she managed to cover the boy with her body before any real damage was done. He turned in her arms and nearly strangled her as she ran back to the bathroom. His screams downgraded to cries as he sensed he was safe.

In the back stall, Erin stared into the frightened eyes of one of the women. "Take him. I'm needed out there."

The boy didn't want to let go, but he soon latched on to his next protector. That woman stared. "You're bleeding."

Erin touched her face, where the bruises from her recent foot chase combined with cuts from the shattered glass last night and the chipped ceramic tile today. "I shoulda known." She left the women and headed back to the door.

_There_. The gunman's attempt to take out one of the airport security personnel gave up his position. He'd been tucked behind a wall about ten feet to the left and across the wide concourse from Erin's vantage point. She took aim and fired, satisfied when the wall beside him exploded.

He ran. Erin took off after him, dodging bullets as she did so. "Great, just what I need! Another foot chase!"

Trusting Janice to stay put, she slowed when she realized she'd lost the guy. A member of airport security, the guy who originally thought she was the shooter, tapped her shoulder. Erin nodded at him and pointed around the corner. He ducked around her and promptly took a bullet to the chest. Shouts of "Shots fired!" and "Man down!" echoed, but Erin tuned out every bit of it. She needed to focus, to take down this guy before he escaped. Rounding the corner, she saw him running down a service corridor behind the restaurant he'd chosen as his new hiding spot.

"US Marshal!" Her shout echoed, and she gave chase. Again. Erin barely kept up but saw the way he'd carefully dressed to blend into the crowd. But he'd somehow smuggled a weapon on board a plane. It was the only way he'd arrived in Chicago in time to catch them.

No matter what happened, this thing would end today.

~oOo~

"Look out!" Nathan dove for Chance as the crates they'd used as cover exploded.

"What was _that_?" Chance asked as Nathan's ears cleared.

"_I don't know. It looked like. . . .a ray gun?"_ Winston's voice in their ear nearly brought a smile to his face. Shock and awe were wonderful things.

"It's the bloody PGV! She must have built a new one!"

"_PG-what?"_ Winston asked.

"Plasma gun!" Another blast cut off the rest of Nathan's response. He glanced at Chance. "We can't stay here. She'll see us, and then we're really dead."

"Who will see us?"

"Satters."

"Who?"

"You _don't_ want to know!"

Chance followed Nathan as he dodged around corners, most of the bad guys headed their way either dead or bleeding on the pavement. By rounding the other end of the warehouse, they should be able to get a bead on Satters's location. And maybe Manchester's. Nathan had known that the PGV-3 was Manchester's baby, but he hadn't thought the man would be stupid enough to build Version Four when Version Three ended so badly.

At the opposite end of the warehouse, Chance peeked around the corner. "I've got him."

"Who?"

"Manchester."

Nathan blinked. _Manchester_ was wielding the PGV-4? He had finally decided to dirty his lily-white hands? "Have you got a line on him?"

"Yeah, and on the girl with him."

Nathan looked around the corner, seeing Satters in front of the main warehouse, standing somewhat behind Manchester and awkwardly holding a normal nine mil. His eyes narrowed. One bullet would be all it took.

"Don't." Chance's calm voice stopped Nathan in his tracks. He wasn't that man anymore, and he suddenly understood what Chance knew. Life was about choices, and the choice not to kill was a big one.

Instead of killing Manchester, he took aim and winged the guy. The PGV-4 went flying, but Satters dove to pick it up. As she did, a bullet from Guerrero ended her life.

Nathan swallowed the bitter taste of victory that welled in the back of his throat and rushed forward. Chance followed him. With Manchester down, they could finally get the answers they needed. Tate would be inside, and he'd likely be heavily guarded as a last ditch effort to defend himself. At the door of the main warehouse, Guerrero stood over Manchester, foot pressed into his injured shoulder. "I'd stay down if I were you, dude."

Nathan smirked and walked right past, enjoying the horrified expression on Manchester's face. The smirk faded at the firefight inside, but it wasn't as intense as he'd expected. Apparently Tate had either sent the bulk of his forces outside or to the safe house. Before too much longer, he stood weapon to weapon with Tate, eying the guy.

Guerrero walked into the room. "Manchester spilled everything, dude. You're done."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "What did Manchester spill?"

"The money, the research, the arms dealing. Y'know, pretty much all of it." Guerrero shrugged. "I had to apply a little force, but he'll live to stand trial."

Tate sneered. "He won't get that far. And your witness will never testify."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about a trial?"

Tate's sneer stayed in place. "You won't kill me. You've gone soft in your time in America, Mr. Nathan."

Guerrero, ignoring Chance's attempts to stop him, walked forward and disarmed Tate inside of two seconds. He restrained the guy so that they were nose-to-nose. "Let me tell you something, dude. That man hasn't gone soft. He's grown the thickest skin you can think of. Unlike you." He pulled out a thick cord and tied Tate securely to his desk. "Whaddya say, Chance? Do we blow this joint?"

"_No. No. No,"_ Winston said firmly in their headset. _"We've got the evidence planted already, and we're NOT blowing up anything. Let the cops do their thing."_

"He's right." Chance turned to Nathan.

"I agree." Nathan holstered his sidearm. With the weight of this confrontation lifted from his shoulders, his mind turned to other matters.

Erin. Where was she, and how had things turned out for her?

~oOo~

Erin stared at the body of their attacker, a man she still didn't know. He'd continued running down the corridor until he'd been boxed in by airport security. When he raised his weapon to fire on Erin, airport security took him down. While anticlimactic, Erin couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. It was over.

_Janice._ She headed back for the bathroom, starting to feel the cuts on her face now that adrenaline had faded. Nathan would give her what-for when she returned, but she didn't care. She simply wanted to deliver Janice to her soon-to-be step-mom and go find Nathan.

In the bathroom, the women still huddled in the back stall. The boy had stopped crying and now sucked his thumb while cuddling into the other woman's shoulder. Erin smiled and ruffled his hair as she looked for Janice. "It's over."

"You're sure?" Janice asked, her question echoed by several other women.

"I'm sure." She held out her hand. "Let's get you to New York."

~TBC


	22. Chapter 22

A week later, Erin appeared in Rosalee's hospital door and stopped to take in the scene. Chloe sat next to the bed, a book propped in her lap as she dozed. Erin smiled and slipped inside, loving the peacefulness in spite of the sadness of this visit. She'd just spoken to the doctor, just received the news that Rosalee's higher brain functions had not improved. While her friend did not require life support, she remained in a vegetative state. Basically, she had sleep cycles and times when she was more aware, but the damage to her brain was such that she lacked cognitive function. None of the doctors who had examined Rosalee anticipated her ever recovering more than she already had.

After the excitement of the last couple of weeks, that pronouncement sat heavy in Erin's stomach. She could have used some good news rather than a bleak prognosis. Letting out a deep breath, she simply listened. And watched.

Because she was pregnant, Rosalee had been hooked up to a fetal monitor. Doctors wanted to watch the baby closely in case something happened to Rosalee. The baby's heartbeat filled the room with a steady beat, and Erin saw movement on the screen. Tears filled her eyes.

She'd always wanted to be a mother. Moving silently across the floor, she was surprised when Chloe didn't wake. Not minding the silence, she reached out and put her hand over Rosalee's womb. _Hey, little one_, she said silently. _I'm sorry Aunt Erin's been out of touch for a few weeks. But I'm here now._

Her tears escaped and traced their way down her cheeks. So much had happened. She'd nearly been killed, had faced down an enraged shooter, and had learned to love Nathan for everything he was, not just what she _thought_ he was. She'd already spoken with Elizabeth and knew the difficult spot she was in. If the British government wanted Nathan, he had to go back. But, pending that decision, he was a free man. Erin hadn't told Jerald anything because she wasn't sure she wanted back into the game. Not yet. Right now, being here with Rosalee mattered more.

Who would care for this baby? Erin's mind returned to her musings. They'd become more insistent over the last few days as she thought about her situation in life. Because of the circumstances, someone would have to take in Rosalee's baby. Why not her?

A soft knock on the door startled Chloe and sent Erin diving for a Kleenex. She wiped her face, smiled apologetically to Chloe, and blinked at Nathan. He stood there, hands in his pockets, as she left the hospital room.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Looking for you." His British accent thickened. "Erin, we need to talk."

"I know." She shook her head. "I spoke with Elizabeth while I was in New York."

"And?"

"It's complicated."

"We knew that."

"Basically, because you're a British citizen, they have the right to have you extradited back to England to face charges." Erin pressed her lips together. "But I don't want you to go."

He met her eyes. "I don't want to go, either, love, but we may not have a choice."

She nodded, her tears returning as she finally decompressed from the stress of the last few weeks. "I'm sorry. It's just. . . . I'm all Rosalee has. I mean, besides Chloe. If something had happened to me. . . ."

Nathan pulled her into his arms and simply held her. Erin laid her head on his shoulder and silently cried, the confusion rising again to even higher levels. She loved this man, but she might have to let him go. It hurt deeper than his betrayal had.

"Erin, love, we need to get you home." He stepped back while she wiped her face with the now-soggy Kleenex. "You've been traveling under high stress for two weeks. You're exhausted and ready for your bed."

She nodded, but an irrational fear rose in her. She knew her home would be safe, that she'd relax there. But what about Nathan? Would they come take him away before she woke up?

Ignoring the questions, she allowed him to tuck her into her car and drive her home. At her door, he escorted her inside, smiling at the disarray in which she'd left the house. The dishes had been done before she left, but everything else hadn't been put up. Her suit jacket still lay on the clean breakfast bar where she'd tossed it.

Turning, Erin looked him in the eye. "Thank you. For finally telling me the truth." Then, she winced. "Sorry. I wasn't meaning that. . . ."

He stopped her with a finger on her lips. "I know." He leaned down and gently kissed her. "Sleep well. I'll be around when you wake up."

Erin nodded and headed for the bedroom. She ignored the shower and took the time only to remove her belt and sidearm. Then, she collapsed face down on her bed and fell asleep.

~oOo~

Nathan let himself into his own apartment and stared in dismay. He'd been here already, and he knew what awaited him. But Erin didn't need to see it.

Tate's men had searched the place. His leather wingback chairs had been destroyed, as had his bed and dishes. The tea set he'd brought from England lay in pieces on the floor, the PG Tips scattered across the kitchen. This wasn't the work of someone merely searching for something. Bryant had been very angry when he tossed this apartment.

Bryant. Nathan let out a soft curse as he thought about how that had ended. Apparently the young man had been obsessed with his perfect reputation and had become erratic when Nathan fired him. Of course, Nathan had been within his rights as a supervisor at Rockwood to can the guy. Bryant _had_ been meeting his girlfriend for sex while still on duty. That was a huge taboo for the company.

Thinking about Rockwood made Nathan think about the innocent people now out of a job. Himself included. Of course, he wasn't innocent. Not totally. But there were others in worse situations than himself. Manchester had already turned state's evidence and been spirited away by Erin's colleagues. As had Janice. The entire thing would blow over soon enough, with a slew of international terrorists falling thanks to Manchester's testimony.

Bryant was dead, of course. As was Satters. Nathan tried to feel some level of remorse over their deaths but couldn't bring himself to that point. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He still wasn't certain how Manchester had discovered his past with the royal family, but he knew that someone out there had that information. Had Templeton escaped? If so, Nathan might never be able to leave his past behind.

Of course, that assumed that he wasn't returned to England to stand trial. Nathan shook his head. So many things had changed over the last few weeks. Within hours of their return to Dallas, Jerald had contacted Erin, telling her of the very attractive woman who bought him drinks after work one day. He'd allowed the safe house to slip, and drug tests showed that he'd been dosed with sodium thiopental after he'd drank enough not to be aware. Erin wasn't aware of his decision, but he'd already penned his resignation from the Marshals over the incident and had apologized profusely to Nathan. The man's respect for Erin and for their relationship impressed Nathan.

If he stayed in the States, Nathan already knew what he wanted to do. He was a security man, born and bred. Life would never be dull in his line of work, and he knew the risks involved. So did Erin. But his time protecting Janice had reminded him of a dream he'd had when he first began: to open his own security company. The option remained, as always, but some well-meaning nudges from Chance and Guerrero made the dream a possibility.

A knock on the door caused Nathan to tense. He'd promised Erin that he would still be here when she awoke. But would he? With the truth of his past coming out, he knew he could be arrested and sent back to England at any moment.

Walking to the door, he checked the peephole and blinked. What was Christopher Chance doing at his door? He opened it and stepped aside. "Come in."

Chance walked in and looked around. "Wow. They really did a number on your place."

"Yeah." Nathan headed for his cleaning supplies. "I would offer you tea or Scotch, but. . . ." He motioned to the mess on the floor."

"Nah. That's okay. I'm just here to deliver this." Chance held out an envelope.

Nathan froze. He clearly recognized the royal seal. "Have you seen this yet?"

"No." Chance shrugged. "But I'm pretty sure what it holds." Rather than waiting around, he headed to the door. "If you ever need anything, call me." And he disappeared.

Nathan stared at the envelope. This would either end his life in America or establish it. Deciding that he couldn't wait if he wanted time with Erin, he opened the envelope and began to read. The contents caused him to slump onto the floor, blinking back tears.

~oOo~

"_Richard Nathan Gleeson has hereby been cleared of any and all charges related to the attempted assassination of Her Royal Highness, Victoria, Princess of Wales."_ Erin looked up from the surprise letter, her eyes wide. "Is this for real?"

"Yes."

"But. . . ." She blinked at the thick piece of paper. "You're. . ."

"A free man." Nathan smiled as he watched her absorb the news. She wasn't the only person in this relationship to be conflicted over what would happen next. Walking around her breakfast bar, he pulled her into his arms and laid her head on his chest. "Erin, love, I'm free to be here. With you."

She lifted her head suddenly. "We need to talk about that."

Nathan blinked. He'd not been anticipating her sudden change in behavior. Well, he had, but he'd anticipated something a little more violent. She'd paced across her living room to look out the window, gnawing on her thumbnail as she went. He waited, knowing she'd speak when she was ready.

She finally turned to him. "I'm not going back to the Marshals."

"You're not?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm gonna be a mom." She met his eyes. "Nathan, I can't have children. A car accident in my teens ended that. But Rosalee's baby doesn't need to enter the system, not if I can help it. I know this changes things between us, but I can't turn my back on it. I want the baby to know what his or her mother was like, what it means to grow up with someone who loves him or her. I just. . . ."

He kissed her, hard, ending the rambling explanation. For a time, they lost themselves in each other, enjoying the new sensations that freedom brought. When Nathan finally pulled back, he knew he'd never be able to leave this woman if they didn't put some space between them. He pressed his forehead to hers. "I understand."

"You do?"

"I told you my girl in school miscarried."

"Yeah."

"Well, I've always wanted to be a father."

"Wait." She pulled back from him to look him in the eye. "What?"

He laughed the first real laugh he'd shared with her since they'd known each other. "Erin, Rosalee's baby deserves a family, not just a mother. And, while I know you can do it on your own, I'd love to help you raise that child. As _ours_."

She blinked several times, her shock evident on her face. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"I am." He took her hands and held them close to his chest. "When I met you, I merely meant to see if you were okay. I was honest when I said I didn't mean to fall in love with you. But, now that I have, I can't imagine life without you. Back in Tate's compound, when I didn't know where you were or how you were doing. . . .It nearly killed me. But, being with you now, sharing joy and pain. . . .That's where I want to be for the rest of my life. If you'll have me."

"If I'll have you?" Her eyebrows rose incredulously. "Of _course_ I'll have you!" Then, she frowned. "Wait. We _are_ talking about getting married, right?"

He chuckled. "Yes, love. That's what I meant."

She launched herself into his arms and held on tight.

Nathan grinned, his natural reticence jumping out the window as she buried her face in his neck. He held her close, already calculating dates. Their wedding would have to occur just months after her father's, but he didn't mind. He would be gaining a family, a life, and freedom. Erin settled into his arms. These last months had been little glimpses into what his life could be like. Windows, so to speak. He'd managed to show others that he wasn't a cold-blooded killer, that he could change, that he could be redeemed. His redemption process wasn't complete, but Erin would help him along the way. As would their new baby when he or she arrived. And, with the business proposition Chance had pitched him, he would soon have the ability to support them in the way they deserved to be supported.

Nathan smiled. Life was good.

~The End~


End file.
